Lucky 13th
by SBSunhawk2
Summary: Battletech/RDM Battlestar Galactica crossover. The RTF encounters the Terran Hegemony in Exile. Point of Departure is at the time of Lay Down Your Burdens Part I. Standard Disclaimer, I don't own either etc etc
1. First Contact part I

**High Orbitals - Circe Base**

**January 13th 3050**

"... three more orbits, then Alpha is relieving us and we're heading downstairs. Shrike, you and Nickles take point this time around, let your seniors get some rest."

"Roger that, Brigand, hopefully you'll catch up on your beauty sleep back there."

"I'll remember that the next time I need to schedule some SAR training, Shrike."

"Yer all heart, Brigand, moving to point now."

The voices were calm, for all the jocularity they were focused, because while Circe Base was mostly just a minor training and R&R center located inside a rather curious nebula, the four _Sparrowhawk II_s flew with meticulous precision, as if they were patrolling Fleet Central itself. After all, they were on the outskirts of Hegemony controlled space, and every so often one of the little pirate bands that seemed to spring up wherever civilization took root would test the defenses. Besides, it wouldn't do for the garrison to get sloppy in case some higher-up decided to pull a snap inspection, or worse yet a RFR visitor came by... never wanted to look bad in front of the competition, after all.

In the cockpit of one of the _Sparrowhawk II_'s now flying trail, Lt (JG) Mikhail Sustinikov, call sign 'Brigand' was rather relaxed, even as his eyes drifted about in a practiced dance, sweeping about the outside with Mark One eyeball, then lingering on the HUD before dropping down for a sweep over the MFD's inside the cockpit itself. _Thank god they finally managed to miniaturize the neurohelmet_. But, like almost always, everything was calm and quiet. Apart from the _Skywatch_ orbital defense platforms and a few dropships shuttling to and from the planet, orbital space was empty. The Fleet elements assigned to defend Circe Base were themselves based near the Nadir jump point, after all, with another detachment at the Zenith point.

Suddenly one of the MFD's started flashing, causing Mikhail to blink... a pre-emergence pulse HERE?

"Brigand, you getting what I'm getting boss?" came over the com from Shrike.

"Pre-emergence thermal pulse?"

"Exactly."

"I am, all Bandits, Brigand taking lead. Circe Base, we have an anomalous thermal pulse signature consistent with pre-emergence, however it is not at a pirate point, Bandit Flight is investigating."

"Roger, Bandit Flight, we show the signature as well... Correction, we have a deep radar contact at emergence point."

"I see it, Circe Base, small bugger, can't be much more than 50 tons, how the devil did it get there. Bandits moving in."

"Understood, broadcasting IFF query now... null-response, repeat null-response. Hold one... weapons are NOT free at this time, repeat, NOT free, confirm."

"Confirm not free, Circe Base, all Bandits, weapons NOT free. Acknowledge."

"Shrike acknowledges"

"Nickles acknowledges"

"Hotshot acknowledges"

"Circe Base, Bandit Flight confirming all weapons NOT free, approaching contact now and should have visual shortly."

"Roger that, Bandit Flight, we are not getting any response to communications attempts. _Admiral Ustinov_ is launching now."

"Confirming negative response, coming up on visual... looks extremely small and rather boxy, picking up some emissions, appear to be active sensors... Flightcomp not recognizing it from the warbook. No matches, repeat, no matches... It's just sitting there in orbit, Circe Base, like they haven't even noticed us."

"Understood, Bandit Flight, _Ustinov_ should be coming up at your 9 o'clock low."

"I see her, Circe Base... hold one... contact is manuevering to face _Ustinov_, picking up higher pulse-rate on target emissions."

"Bandit Flight, this is Ustinov-Actual, make a one element close-pass and attempt visual signalling then form up."

"Understood, Ustinov-Actual, Brigand and Hotshot making the pass, Shrike, Nickles, formate with Ustinov."

"Copy that, Brigand, heading to formate with _Ustinov_, Shrike out"

"Approaching contact from 5 o'clock high, lowering velocity at this time."

"Understood Brigand, we are not, repeat not picking up identifiable fire control emissions at this time, still no communications however."

"Understood Ustinov-Actual, making pass... now."

--

"Frak me, misjumped on the FIRST frakking jump?" To say that Lt Margaret "Racetrack" Edmondson was pissed would be an understatement, to say the least.

"Navcomp is rebooting itself, running diagnostics on it now." lt Hamish "Skulls" McCall replied. "Whatever it was took DRADIS offline as well, think it was a power surge or something, but both are rebooting now."

"Any chance we could catch up with the others?" Racetrack asked, looking down at her own displays as the DRADIS came back online.

"Orders are to return to base."

"Frak it, it was the first frakking jump" she repeated, frustrated, looking up and around. The _Raptor_ was facing space, glistening clouds of gas drifting about, making for a rather pretty scene, all things considered. But they weren't there to sightsee. Still muttering, she looked around, waiting for systems to stablize. "Huh... off to starboard, is that what I think it is?"

Skulls looked up at that, leaning forward a bit. "Planet and..." he turned his attention to his displays as the DRADIS finished it's self-test... "Sensors showing oxy-nitro... water detected... hot damn, it's a habitable planet... and DRADIS is still frakked up, getting a massive amount of interference."

"We are some lucky frak-ups then, DAMN!" Racetrack looked enthused, her earlier disgust and frustration melting away, a habitable planet... the triumph lasted just a moment when...

"Contact on DRADIS, two, make that four fighter-sized objects moving on an intercept course, and a larger one approaching from the other direction, we're being pincered."

"Frak it, Cylons... how long until the navicomp is rebooted?"

"Three minutes to finish and recalculate."

"Frak!" Racetrack nudged the thrusters, turning to face the larger of the incoming objects. "Are they targetting us?"

"Getting some EM radiation, but nothing consistant with Cylon scanners."

"You're frakking with me, EM?"

"Yes... two of the fighter-sized objects just broke off, others are slowing as they approach..."

"Not picking anything up on wireless?"

"Nothing... just EM, nothing on wireless, nothing resembling active DRADIS either. The EM is pulsing and appears to be acting like some sort of carrier, sort of what wireless might do if it were using EM frequencies..."

Suddenly the _Raptor_ rocked, the lights in the cockpit going out as all the displays went blank, power failing completely. From the outside, it was even more dramatic, as an overstressed power relay that had been carrying the entire load finally failed, the pre-flight checks had missed the failing assembly. Sparks glittered in the blackness of space, even as the _Raptor_ lost power.

"Frak it! Did they fire?"

"No idea, 'track, no power, no response..."

--

The approaching _Sparrowhawk II_'s continued decelerating, intending to make the pass as slow as possible, when the shower of sparks from the failing relay lit up the underside of the unknown vessel in front of them.

"Ustinov-Actual, target appears to have suffered some sort of major malfunction, sparks are visible from what is apparantly the underside near what appears to be the drive assembly and not picking anything up at all, repeat all emissions have ceased."

"Understood, Brigand, match velocities and report."

The sleek aerospace fighter continued to decelerate, coming to a halt relative to the now slowly tumbling _Raptor_. Sustinikov was looking down into his cockpit, as the central MFD switched over to magnified visual mode, the sensor systems cameras zeroing in on the object.

"Appear to be two crew on board, one of them is pointing at us. There are no light sources within the cockpit, my guess is they have completely lost power."

--

"Those two fighters just stopped, look" Skulls pointed out the canopy transparency as the unusual fighter, so utterly different in appearance from a _Viper_ or even a _Raider_ hung motionless.

"So the frak what? They can blow us away without a sweat..." Racetrack growled, clearly growing even more irritated as she peered out at the odd little vessels. "What the... those are either skinjobs or humans, there's a pilot in the cockpit."

"I see that..."

--

"Brigand, we're launching a _Battle Taxi_ at this time to see if we can use their grapnel system to recover that craft on board, hold position and keep an eye on it."

"Understood, Ustinov-Actual."

The massive yet rather graceful aerodyne shaped dropship decelerated smoothly, even as the small craft bay door slid open and a single spheroid shaped small craft boosted out, reoriented towards the still-tumbling _Raptor_ and began accelerating to match orbits with the much smaller craft.

--

"Getting anything Skulls?"

"Nothing, everything is dead, no power at all, and without power we have no thrust, even thought he manual controls are operational, they aren't going to do us any good."

"Frak frak frak frak... that big one is closing and is slowing down too, and what the hell, it just launched something four times our size, looks like a big ball, which appears to be heading towards us." Racetrack was scowling as she checked her sidearm, glancing over at Skulls as he did the same in the darkness. "We're frakked, but we can take a few of those damn toasters down with us."

"That is if they are toasters, 'track, those aren't looking like anything Cylon."

"So they are being sneakier than normal, frak it, they must have hit us with some sort of weapon we didn't detect and shut everything down on us... the ball is slowing down and... what the frak?"

A loud clang echoed through the cabin as a magnetic grapnel struck the hull and stuck fast, then a second, and a third. The slow tumbling of the _Raptor_ was arrested, and it was quickly apparant that the odd ball-shaped craft was 'reeling' them in, the thought causing them both more than a little queasiness.

--

The _Battle Taxi_ slowly retracted the grapnels, bringing the unusual craft snugly up against the solid bow of the small transport. Once it appeared secure, the thrusters flared, swinging the small craft, that was normally used to transport battle-armored marines to board targets, around to face it's mother ship. A light tap of the thrusters, and the spheroid vessel crept forward, being careful to not build up much momentum as, with the odd craft grappled to the bow the iBattle Taxi/i would have a great deal of trouble decelerating.

The small craft bay door was still open as the _Battle Taxi_ approached with it's cargo, with suited up bay personnel already preparing to deploy the dropships own emergency grapnel system to winch the unusual vessel inside, while the _Battle Taxi_ landed under it's own power. Instead of 'launching' the magnetic grapnels, suited techs guided them out and carefully positioned them on the hull, so that as they were retracted the unusual vessel would be oriented 'down' properly, and thus hopefully preventing any injuries on the part of the two crew members on board.

--

"OK, this is getting frakking weird. Why did that one person bang on the canopy and give the thumbs up sign? No, we aren't frakking OK, you frakking moron!" Racetrack practically shouted, obviously growing even more stressed out as the _Raptor_ was swallowed into the bay. The figures outside were all suited up, even as the bay doors closed behind them, and a bright red light flashed continuously, obviously warning of vacuum conditions but serving mostly to bathe the interior of the craft in a rather macabre reddish tones that even the bright lighting of the bay didn't entirely dispel.

--

"Pressure will be equalized in the bay in 3 minutes, Skipper." came the report from the small-craft bay. On the bridge of the _Artemis_ class Assault Dropship, Lieutenant Commander Shelby Richards nodded slightly.

"Very well, Chief, secure the bay for landing."

"Gotcha, Skipper, it's mostly secure already, got my people locking down the strange craft. We're keeping the vacuum warning light running for now, however, don't want any accidents."

"Good job, Chief, Richards out."

The slender woman in the khaki and white jumpsuit 'duty' uniform of the Hegemony Navy leaned back at her command console, glancing around the small bridge of the _Admiral Ustinov_ fondly. The fleet little _Artemis_'s were as swift and nimble as fighters a fraction their tonnage, yet armed to the proverbial teeth. Ton for ton, they were the most lethal military vessels in the fleet, at a mere 5,000 tons of mass they mounted multiple extended-range PPC's, Gauss Rifles, both Extended Range and Pulse lasers of the largest size, along with multiple anti-missile systems to fend off the swarms of missiles most of the pirates in the region liked to use.

"Ms Pye, prepare for atmospheric reentry to Circe Base starport, priority routing on channel Delta-6." she commanded softly, almost casually, yet the bridge crew reacted with alacrity, beginning the landing checklist and process. After a moment, Lt. Cmdr Richards pressed a button on her console. "All hands, this is the captain speaking. Good work, people, when we get back dirtside the first round is on me."


	2. First Contact Part II

**_HDS Admiral Ustinov_**

"Still no gravity, Skulls, and that red light is still on." Racetrack was now looking a bit more confused than anything, as the _Raptor_ sat inside the now closed bay.

"No chromejobs at least, and none of the people we saw looked like skinjobs." Skulls observed, one hand still resting on the hilt of his pistol.

"Doesn't mean a frakking thing, you know we don't know what all the skinjobs look like! Hrmmmm, looks like those people are strapping into those foldout seats, still suited up."

Suddenly the pair felt themselves being pushed back into their seats as a surge of acceleration hit, a good four gravities worth, which last for several seconds before there was a slight sideways acceleration that lasted even less time.

"What the frak..."

"Think they are landing, 'track, deorbit burn followed by a turn I'm betting. Either the toasters are being too clever by half or these people are real primitive. And that lettering on the wall, nothing like anything I've ever seen before."

--

"Insertion burn complete, atmospheric entry in one minute, twenty seconds. We are cleared for a priority routing to Zero-Two North, calm winds." came the report from the helm station.

"Very well, keep me updated." replied Lt Cmdr Richards.

"Aye aye, ma'am."

At the command station, Richards was alternating between sweeping a gaze across her bridge and looking at one of the MFD's on the armrest of the command chair, which was showing an image of the strange craft._ Greek letters? At least most of them, but who uses the greek alphabet these days? Not even the Greeks... And those look like external ordnance racks, lots of antenna but... nothing that looks like a gunport, unless it's closed too tightly and well enough concealed. And it jumped in away from even a pirate point..._

"Entering atmosphere." Came the report, right as the dropship started shuddering slightly as it kissed the upper reachs of the atmosphere, the increasing resistance slowing the craft down even further. Within moments the ride grew even bumpier, the _Ustinov_ plunging into the air in a falcon's stoop, surrounded by a fiery corona as armor met air and brushed it aside, heating up in the process. After a surprisingly brief period, the dropship steadied, still slowing down, shedding velocity as it swept around towards it's base.

"In the pattern now, nothing on the radar, air is cleared and we are number one to land."

"Take her in" came the command.

"Landing gear down and locked," the shuddering increased again as the dropship turned in on final approach. "On profile..."

It seemed to take forever, but it was only less than a minute as the ground drew closer and closer, until the dropship touched down on the long runway, retro-thrusters flaring as the heavy craft thundered along, slowing... slowing... until they were no longer roaring along, but rather much more sedately sweeping onto the taxiways towards the base tarmac. A small truck with a large 'Follow Me' sign pulled in front of the Dropship, even as other vehicles bearing infantry formed up around it. Instead of heading to the hardened bunkers where the local systems iArtemis/i squadron was normally housed, the _Ustinov_ instead moved towards a cleared area near the operations tower.

--

"Think we just landed."

"Yeah, but still got the red light, and those people are still strapped in."

"We're still moving, 'track, I think." Skulls said, eyes still sweeping around the odd bay that they were in.

"Yeah, can tell." Racetrack muttered, then lapsed into silence for several minutes.

Suddenly, outside the crewmembers were removing their helmets, revealing definately human faces, not one of which looked anything like any of the known Cylon skinjobs. The red light winked out, but before either of the two _Raptor_ pilots could react otherwise, a hatch opened and four new figures filed in, two of which filled the Colonials with a sense of dread...

"Frak, chromejobs." Racetrack snarled, unhooking her safety harness and drawing her pistol. "Frakking chromejobs."

--

"They haven't made any attempt to leave their craft, Major." Lt Cmdr Richards replied to a question asked by the stockier woman next to her in the khaki and white uniform of the Hegemonies Marines.

"Hrmmm, but they definately appear human, right?" Major Antoinette Piachi would never be thought of as 'graceful' or 'pretty', being somewhat stocky and blocky in appearance, seeming almost to be a female version of a football lineman.

"Yes, they do." Richards said. The two officers were trailed by a pair of Marines in _Nighthawk_ Power Armor (Light) suits, their Mauser-system rifles held at port arms. The two Marines immediately peeled off, to flank the hatchway as the officers continued inside to look over the craft.

"Very well, with your permission, Captain?" Piachi's eyes twinkled a bit, at the quaint naval tradition.

"Granted, Major." Richards replied, voice admirably grave and serious, although having ones superior in the chain of command asking you for permission to do something always tickled her funny bone.

Piachi frowned a bit, as the figures in the cockpit abruptly headed into the rear bay of the craft. "OK..." she said, then strode across the deck and, with a shrug, simply knocked on what appeared to be the access hatch.

--

Racetrack and Skulls settled behind what small bits of cover the interior of the _Raptor_ offered, pistols drawn... waiting.

_Frak, frak, frak... we are so frakking dead..._ kept running through Racetrack's head as she waited, only to jump at the sound, a prosaic thumping noise as somebody rapped on the metal skin of the _Raptor_. Skulls looked over at Racetrack, and then shrugged, settling back and holding the pistol steady.

--

No response... so Piachi tried again, a bit harder. It was only polite, after all, to knock, even though she could sense, even if she couldn't hear, the repressed snickering from the watching enlisted personnel. Still no answer, so she tried the classic 'shave and a haircut, two bits' knock.

--

Racetrack muttered as the toasters continued knocking on the hatch and not opening, glaring impotently at it. Finally, she shouted, causing Skulls to wince at the echoing sound within the confined cabin. "Frak you! Come in here and frakking kill us already."

"Owwww, 'track, inside voice." Skulls replied, rubbing the side of his head briefly. "Look, they haven't killed us yet."

"So the frakking toasters are now wanting to play with us, so the frak what?"

"If they hadn't recovered us we would still be drifting in space, and would have probably burned up in atmosphere, 'track, and besides, look over there... that's what knocked out power."

"Huh?" Racetrack looked, squinting in the darkness of the bay, lit only by the small window on the hatch. Dimly visible was an obviously distorted and damaged power relay... on the inside of the cabin. "So they didn't do it?"

"Don't think so now, 'track..."

--

"OK, anybody understand that?" Piachi said, turning to face the rest of the bay after the muffled shouting in some odd language. "Anybody at all?"

One of the Marines smirked inside her helmet but instead shook her head, triggering a private channel to the other "Go Navy, Beat Army maybe?" Over the same channel came a rumbling laugh as her comrade reacted to the flippancy.

"Damn it..." Piachi turned, frowning, and knocked one more time, before getting a grip on the handle. A pause, then she shrugged and hollered out in her best Parade Ground voice. "This is Major Antoinette Piachi, Hegemony Marine Corps, we could not understand your last."

--

"What was that?" Racetrack now looked truly confused, as the loud babble was heard from outside, completely unintelligible to her.

"No clue..." Skulls said, then shrugged and holstered his pistol. "Cover me." he said simply, then stepped to the hatch and pressed the manual release before Racetrack could respond.

As the hatch opened Skulls braced himself, not at all certain what to expect, until it was open all the way, giving him a clear view of the woman standing outside, who had managed to release the handle quick enough. The unfamiliar uniforms, the strange writing visible on the walls, and out of the corner of his eye the pair of chromejobs standing by the hatch, all were visible, and odd.

"Who are you?" he simply asked, covering the confusion by crossing his arms across his chest and trying to look as calm and cool as he could.

--

Piachi stepped back as the hatch started to move, crossing her arms behind her and waiting. As the hatch opened, and the black man in the black uniform with several colorful patchs on it, apparantly a flight suit of some sort rather than a duty uniform judging by the apparant pressure seals. As he spoke Piachi lifted one eyebrow, the language pretty much unintelligible.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I do not understand you." she replied simply, voice completely level, even as she cocked her head slightly, sensing the nervousness from the man from how he stood there.

Behind her, Lt Cmdr Richards lifted her comm to her lips and murmured into it, then nodded, looking up at the Major and the unknown.

--

Skulls glanced over at the movement, resisting the urge to react but instead keeping his eyes mostly on the woman in front of him, even as harsh sounding words that sounded like so much gibberish came from her.

"I cannot understand a word you are saying." he finally said, eyes narrowing a little. Off to the side, Racetrack remained crouched behind an opened equipment locker, pistol still drawn.

--

Piachi frowned, then turned her head, lifting an eyebrow at Richards. "Yes?"

"Sent a recording to the Cave, ma'am, waiting for a... one moment." Richards replied, then lifted her comm once more as it beeped at her. "They say it sounded like Hellenistic Greek to them, and they've got a linguist coming who supposedly 'speaks it a little'."

"That doesn't precisely fill me with confidence, don't tell me it's Sykes-Bannon..." Piachi replied, sounding a bit resigned that it probably was.

"It is."

--

_**Communications Corps Main Facility**_

_**Circe Base**_

Better known as the 'ComCave' or simply 'the Cave', the rather small and cramped room was loaded to the ceiling with electrical gear, displays, wiring, conduits, and millions of other bits and pieces. Not all of it was strictly needed for maintaining communications, but ComCorps had a reputation to maintain, and thus even out here on the edge of the Hegemony they made certain to have all of the latest toys, gadgets, gizmos and gear that they could beg, borrow, steal, scrounge, or even occassionally get legitimately issued.

Not that there were many who would complain, they not only kept the networks up and running properly, but they could be counted on to make certain that the mail got through, that shipments were expedited, and that the base in general wouldn't be forgotten by the higher-ups. There was a benefit to being in close proximity to an, admittedly minor, ComCorps research center, and getting two of the researchers seconded to the base itself had been a coup.

"Hey Kerry, got something for you from the iUstinov/i" came the call from the big bearlike man tending to the 'main' console within the Cave, although it was actually one of the smaller bits of kit inside.

"Oh joy, what does Ragin' Richards and her merry band of cutthroats want now?" came the response from somewhere within a large pile of meters and monitors in the corner.

"Listen to this, they want to know if you can identify it." came the response. Moments later, the few snatchs of conversation was played with remarkably high fidelity and precision, the sound gear being one of the choicer bits of 'requisitioned' kit.

"Attic Greek, Hellenistic era I think, some of the words are different though. 'Who be you now' and 'Cannot a word understand you say' or something like that, we pick up some Greek throwbacks somewhere?"

"Dunno, but guess what."

"Shit, do I have to? You know what will happen, right?"

"Can you just please manage to do this without them writing up yet another discipline report? I mean, you ARE supposed to at least pretend to be military."

"Yeah, yeah, boss. I'll go stick my head into that den of lions, alert the medics to have plenty of Type AB+ available, I'm gonna need it."

"That's 'Doctor Boss Sir' to you, Kerry" came the reply, although he was chuckling even more now. "I'm sure they'll be pleased to hear that they'll have a customer."

From behind the tangle of wires, monitors and computer gear slipped a short, slender... no, make that downright skinny, young woman who looked like she should be home shooting marbles or playing with dolls, wearing a rumpled jumpsuit that hadn't seen the inside of a washer in at least a week, a perfectly clean labcoat, a large pair of glasses on her nose, and a permanently disheveled head of hair. "Ok, Ok, Doctor Boss Your Almighty Awesomeness Sir." she said, grinning impudently at him as she headed for the door.

"Ummm, and Kerry? Change clothes and take a quick shower before you go over there."

"Yeah, yeah, OK Mom." came the reply through the closing door.

--

_**HDS Admiral Ustinov**_

It had been an uncomfortable fifteen minutes of awkward silence, as Skulls and Piachi simply stood there, unable to communicate. Piachi had tried to keep things civil and as comfortable as possible, but it was clear to everybody there that the man in the odd ship was definately nervous.

"She's here, Major, and PFC Stormfeather made sure to point out that for the first time this year she's actually not looking like a walking 'before' picture for the Corps." Richards said, voice a bit droll.

"Oh wonderful, maybe I won't have to chew her..." Piachi cut off her words as the hatch opened, admitting the tiny linguist.

"I was right, you were talking about me behind my back." Kerry said, crossing over to where Richards was standing. "Or is the uncomfortable silence the result of something else?"

"Specialist Sykes-Bannon..." Piachi began, frowning. "You heard the recording, I trust? Try to find out from him who he is, where they are from, and what happened to his partner?" she said, trying to keep her temper.

"Yup, I did, Hellenistic Attic Greek with some odd word constructions, but... here goes."

--

Skulls had relaxed somewhat, at least they hadn't opened fire or tried anything, and he was starting to think that they truly didn't understand a word he was saying. Then a new element entered the picture, a youngish looking woman, smaller than Athena, strode into the room, and the element of tension within all the military types there. She looked more like a scientist than anything else, with the white labcoat and the slightly rumpled jumpsuit.

"Your name what is?" she managed, in atrociously accented Caprican, but at least he could understand her.

"Just call me Skulls" he said, smiling a little.

"Skulls? Is name or is title?" she replied, tilting her head as she regarded him steadily.

"Callsign." he replied.

The woman pursed her lips. "I sorry am, word know not, make clear?"

Skulls frowned for a moment, then nodded. "Like a title, is what I'm called by friends."

"Ahhhh, I thank you. I Kerry Sykes-Bannon" she replied, smiling as she pointed at herself. "That Shelby Richards" she pointed at Richards "Rank ummmm... no word think I, call we 'Lieutenant Commander'. That" she then pointed at Piachi "Major Antoinette Piachi."

The second woman said something sharply to the diminutive linguist in that odd language, to which the linguist replied in the same tongue.

"I sorry am, not told introduce was, so did anyways." she said, grinning now. "Where from you?"

Skulls chuckled a bit as well, glancing over at the fuming uniformed women. "Not a soldier I take it, yes? And originally from Caprica. And a question of my own, why are you working with Cylons?"

"Cylons? What that is?" she replied, looking confused.

"Cylons, them..." he pointed at the two figures by the hatch that he took for chromejobs.

"Them soldiers in armor, call you that cylon?" she replied, still looking confused as she looked over her shoulder.

"Soldiers wearing armor?" he looked over towards Racetrack, who looked surprised at that, but not really believing it. "Can you prove that?"

--

"Could you have the Marines take off their helmets, Anto... Major?" Kerry asked, reminding herself at the last minute to use the proper rank, but not looking all that apologetic for the slip.

"Why?" Piachi asked, frowning still.

"He thinks that they are something he called 'Cylons' and wanted proof that they were just Marines in armor, from his attitude I'm thinking these 'Cylons' are enemies and he wants to know about them."

"Well, what else has he told you, Specialist?" the Marine major replied, stalling a bit.

"His name, or at least his 'title used by friends' is 'Skulls', I'm thinking some sort of nickname or something. And he's from someplace 'originally' called Caprica."

Piachi nodded, turning her eyes on the black man for a moment, then nodded again. "Very well, Peters, Lewiston, helmets off."

--

Skulls listened to the strange language, then looked over as the two armored figures that he had assumed to be cylons reached up and removed helmets, revealing a somewhat scarred woman's face and a younger males, both quite human in appearance.

"Not Cylons then, I think." he said, as much for Racetrack's benefit as for the linguists. "Where are we?"

Kerry smiled, nodding to the woman she'd identified as 'Major Antoinette Piachi' before turning her attention back to him. "Circe Base, Skulls." she said, her accent actually improving the longer they spoke. "And not soldier, but they want me soldier be. There was another in ship, where is?"

"Racetrack? I think we're clear, those aren't chromejobs." he said, not directly replying, although he had obviously relaxed a bit.

"Frak it." Racetrack said, holstering her pistol as she stepped to the hatch, joining Skulls and squinting at the diminutive linguist herself. "Your accent is terrible, where did you learn Caprican anyways?"

"Learn Caprican did not, learn Greek did, you name 'Racetrack' is? Learn Greek at University, language class take." Kerry replied, smiling at the dark-haired woman. "You Caprica from too?"

Racetrack blinked at that. "Greek? What the frak is that? And yeah, call me Racetrack. And I'm also from Caprica, one of the Twelve Colonies." she said, glancing out over the others in the bay, but not exitting the craft.

Kerry glanced over at the others, then said something in that harsh language of theirs before turning her attention back to the two Colonials. "Need food? Drink? Quarters ready have, rest if want, leader wish speak you with."

--

The two in the hatchway hesitated, then nodded, drawing a smile from Piachi. "So you were able to communicate with them, thank you Specialist."

"Oh ye of little faith." Kerry replied, shooting the Marine officer a glance. "I told them we had quarters ready for them, hopefully you won't make me a liar."

Piachi's smile immediately turned into an irritated scowl as Kerry managed to burrow right back under her skin. "They are ready, Specialist. And consider yourself on report, again..." she snapped.

"For what this time?" Kerry replied, planting her hands on her hips and glaring at the major.

"What was it last time, Specialist" Piachi replied, stressing the last word, then colored as multiple voices joined Kerry in replying 'Gross Insubordination'

Meanwhile, Racetrack and Skulls exited the _Raptor_, keeping their hands away from the holstered pistols, but not making any move to surrender them. Piachi managed to force a smile, although anybody looking could tell that the straight-laced officer wanted to reach out and strangle the linguist, who didn't seem at all abashed at the prospect of being on report... again...

--

Kerry turned again and smiled once more. "Soldiers! The Major will you show to quarters, Skulls, Racetrack." she said, her accent still absolutely aweful, but improving. "They no Greek speak, errr, Caprican speak, try I will learn more, yes?"


	3. On the Bucket Part I

_**Circe Base**_

_**January 16, 3050**_

"Looks like there are four main power relays and two backups, the surge started here, took out both backups and two of the primary arrays, then this one failed putting all the load on this last one, which was already damaged, then it failed as well." Sergeant Mario Rascan reported, gesturing towards the holographic representation of the destroyed power relays.

Standing around the projector was a small crowd. Near the center of the group and clearly in charge was a tall and rather imposing man with close-cropped blond hair, and if there was a gram of fat on him, it was in the hotdog he'd eaten at lunch. Brigadier Edward van Hausen looked as if he should be chomping on a cigar, but rather he instead was relaxed, a surprisingly mild expression on his face rather than trying to look like he was eating nails. Next to him stood the incongrously tiny figure of Kerry Sykes-Bannon and next to the linguist were standing the two Colonial pilots. Having seen the holographic systems already, they didn't look too surprised, but rather interested as they listened intently to Kerry's translations.

"So we know what happened, is it repairable?" van Hausen asked, in a surprisingly light baritone.

"I think so, Sir, they are about the same amperage and voltage as a Type Two actuator power relay, put voltage regulators on both sides and they should be able to handle the load fine, and fit into the same bays. And I have a few Type Two's sitting about, the hard part would be ginning up an adaptor for it, but..."

Kerry cut in at that, interrupting her translation for a moment "We have a few oddball universal power adaptors that HegSol was working on in the 'cave..." she trailed off, as most of the assembled Hegemony officers simply looked at her, although van Hausen looked like he was fighting a valiant battle against laughing. "Look, trying to help! Fine, where do I go for the execution?"

At that, van Hausen chuckled, shaking his head, even as Major Piachi looked like she was about to explode. "No executions today, Kerry, would get blood on the floor and then who'd we have translating." the brigadier said, still smiling, but then his smile got... nasty. "Of course, that reprieve only means that you'll have to go with Racetrack and Skulls back to their fleet, and I'm afraid that means either eating the 'cardboard' rations they described or the wonderfully tasty and nutricious combat rations that we all love."

"Shoot me now." she replied, shaking her head, before hurrying to translate the entire exchange for the benefit of the two Colonial pilots.

Racetrack chuckled "Well, it shouldn't be too long, Kerry, and then back to real food. That alone will make you popular with the Fleet." she replied, waiting for the linguist to finish the translation before continuing, more seriously. "But again, Sir, speaking only for myself and Skulls, we do appreciate everything."

"Not a problem." van Hausen replied, via Kerry. "The Director-General has already decided to offer you refuge within the Hegemony after all, and..." he glanced over at Kerry and chuckled again. "Of course, as the CO here, I'll have to Lead By Example and accompany you over, leaving Major Piachi in command here." he continued, and while his tone was light, his expression was dead serious. "I wish it were possible to translate your astrogation data into a form usable for us, since I think it would be much more helpful to bring along a few WarShips to help protect your civilians, but once your fleet is here, they will be under the coverage of our defenses."

--

_**Communications Corps Main Facility**_

_**Circe Base**_

"Not my fault! You didn't tell me that the Iron Maiden would be there in the flesh!" Kerry protested from behind the stack of displays.

"So? Look, Kerry, you can't keep on twisting their noses like that, or eventually van Hausen will have no choice but to stomp you flat." the older man said, himself ensconced behind a terminal with a mass of sourcecode displayed on it. "And when you are over with the refugees, keep your mouth shut."

"They don't seem to have steel rods stuck up their asses, boss." came the reply. "But fine, I'll be good, just no Piabitchi! Tankerman I can stand, he's been there, done that, and isn't a Grade-A Bitch, well, Grade-A Bastard."

"Kerry, Kerry, Kerry..." he shook his head, but instead returned to his work. "Just be careful, and bring back some examples of that 'Wireless' if you can, I think it's like that ancient pre-HPG FTL comm system I read about, want to tear it apart and see what makes it tick."

"Sure thing, Boss... wait, I forgot, you are now 'Doctor Boss Your Incredible Awesomeness Sir' right?"

--

**_Low Orbitals - Circe Base_**

**_January 17th, 3050_**

"So far so good, got full power, not reading any fluctuations or surges." Skulls reported, checking over both the _Raptor_'s built-in diagnostics as well as the hastily translated improvised display that showed even more detailed data on the replacement power relays.

"Coordinates laid in..."

In back, Brigadier van Hausen, Kerry, Private Lydia Stormfeather HMC (Hegemony Marine Corps) and Ambrose Pierson, the only one not in some sort of uniform, sat in the cabin, marvelling at the artificial gravity, but generally keeping silent. Suddenly a wrenching sensation, the same as a standard KF jump, came over them, as the _Raptor _returned to the Fleet.

--

**_Battlestar Galactica_**

**_Deep Space_**

"DRADIS contact, IFF reading as a _Raptor_... it's Racetrack and Skulls." came the report into CIC onboard _Galactica_

"They are back early, must have had a misjump."

"Sir, Racetrack is requesting that they be met, says that they have a, quote, 'sensitive report for the Admiral' unquote." Gaeta looked back over his shoulder to where Admiral William Adama was standing.

"Interesting, tell her that I'll meet her once she's onboard." Adama said, one eyebrow quirked.

"Yessir... She's also requesting that her _Raptor _be secured on landing, and nobody enters it until you say otherwise."

"Curious... very well, send word to Chief Tyrol to have the _Raptor _secured for now." Adama now looked... concerned, frowning in consideration even as he turned and headed for his office.

--

"... then we lost power completely, right as we sighted their larger vessel. Turns out there was some severe faults with the power coupler assembly which had failed completely, but at the time we thought it was a new Cylon weapon. We were then taken aboard their vessel and brought down to the planet. There, we saw what we thought were chromejobs, even though none of the people we had seen resembled any of the known skinjob models. Turned out they were actually suits of armor, and not chromejobs at all, they had one person who spoke a horrid form of Caprican, but we were able to establish communications." Racetrack paused in her report, while Admiral Adama merely listened, not yet commenting, although from his expression it was obvious that he was mulling things over while the pilot spoke. "And Sir, they call themselves the 'Terran Hegemony in Exile'... I think they are from the Thirteenth Tribe, but talking to the translator, a 'Specialist' in something they call 'ComCorps', they have never even heard of Kobol, according to her we were speaking an ancient form of a language they call 'Greek'." she said, in a bit of a rush.

"Well, Lieutenant," Adama said, then smiled as he settled back in his seat. "Good thinking to keep this quiet. Any other observations?"

"Well... they don't have artificial gravity, I know that much, and they seemed rather interested in us being able to go FTL at somewhere other than what they called a 'jump point'. I didn't see any of their weapons, but I'm not certain just how advanced they are and if they would be able to take on the Cylons."

"I see." he said, then leaned forward once more. "Thank you for the report, wait for me outside."

Racetrack nodded and rose, leaving the office.

About five minutes later, Adama came out of the office. "Come" was all he said, still seeming somewhat lost in consideration as the two of them headed down the corridor, en-route to the hanger.

"The President asked to meet the delegation here rather than onboard _Colonial One_ and to that end _Colonial One _will be docking with us." he said by way of explanation as they reached the hangar, drawing a nod from the pilot beside him. "Return to your _Raptor _and wait for President Roslin and I there."

"Understood, Sir." Racetrack replied, peeling off to head for where the _Raptor _was parked, surrounded by Marines, while Admiral Adama headed for the airlock to wait for Roslin.

--

About twenty minutes later, Admiral Adama and Laura Roslin arrived, talking quietly to each other as they moved along. Trailing behind were Lt. Gaeta and Tory Foster, both of whom appeared somewhat surprised at what they were overhearing.

"Gunnery Sergeant Mathias? Form up your men." Adama ordered, to the evident surprise of the khaki clad woman, who quickly nodded.

"Aye, Sir" she said, then turned and simply gave a glare at the guarding Marines, who hustled into line behind her.

--

"I think that's our cue to come out." van Hausen said, rising from his seat and taking a moment to make certain his uniform was properly settled. Kerry and PFC Stormfeather did the same, while Pierson simply rose, somehow managing to keep himself in the background even in the crowded cabin of the _Raptor_

Racetrack looked outside, even as Kerry translated, and nodded. "Looks like it, the Admiral and President Roslin are both here." She took a breath. "I'll go ask them if they are ready, OK?"

"Very well, Racetrack" van Hausen replied, after Kerry translated. "We'll wait for your signal."

Racetrack nodded and popped the hatch, dropping down to the deck and lifting one eyebrow at Adama. "With your permission, Sir?" she asked, dropping into a more formal mode.

"Certainly." he replied, hands clasped lightly behind his back.

Racetrack nodded, then gestured slightly, smiling a bit. Out from the hatch, to the somewhat stunned reaction from the others who could see what was happening, came the four passengers. Brigadier van Hausen was in the front, dressed in an Olive Drab uniform, stark and utilitarian with knee high black boots and a matching cap on his head. Running from the right shoulder to the left hip was a contrasting red and yellow striped sash, a silver insignia pinned near the shoulder, while an asymetrical golden starburst, two of the 'rays' larger than the others, decorated the opposite chest. A rank tab was on the right shoulder, while on the left, down almost to his elbow, were a long series of colored stripes and insignia. A belt matching the sash girded his waist, and from a simple polished leather hanger was a sheathed 'riding' sword with an ornately tooled basket hilt.

Behind him came Kerry, dressed in a completely white uniform with red trim, and despite it being immaculately clean and perfectly pressed, the diminutive linguist still somehow managed to appear just a bit rumpled in the finery of the formal ComCorps uniform. Next to the linguist came PFC Stormfeather, in a dark blue and red-trimmed version of the same uniform worn by Brigadier van Hausen, only the rank insignia on the shoulders being different and far fewer stripes on the opposite sleeve as well as no sword, but otherwise identical. In the back, still seeming rather innocuously normal, came Pierson, dressed simply in a rather plain suit and monocolored tie.

Once all four were out of the _Raptor_, van Hausen stopped, the others stopping behind him, and snapped a textbook perfect salute to Admiral Adama, barking out "Brigadier Edward van Hausen and party requesting permission to come aboard, Sir.", followed by a somewhat bemused looking Kerry leaning to one side and managing a fairly solid translation, although her accent was rather poor and the phrasing much more stilted.


	4. On the Bucket Part II

_**Battlestar Galactica**_

_**Deep Space, January 18th 3050**_

Kerry had long since changed out of her formal uniform, and was once more wearing a rumpled jumpsuit. The rest of the delegation was back in the pair of small cabins that had been cleared for their use, but Kerry had always been able to operate on very little sleep, so she was already up and around while her seniors slept.

She and Racetrack were in the messhall, the petite linguist the center of attention of the breakfast crowd as she gamely ate the... allegedly nutricious substance masquerading as 'food' that was the contents of a Hegemony MRE. The Hegemony officers had decided that it would be wise to bring their own rations, mostly so that they did not draw down the rations needed by the rest of the fleet, and also to avoid any odd gastro-intestinal issues during the discussions.

"That certainly looks more appetizing than this." Racetrack commented wryly, while digging into her own rather bland looking meal.

"Looks are deceiving, I personally think that they should use these rations to threaten prisoners with." Kerry replied, although truth to tell, the MRE wasn't really all that bad. "I have to say it is rather amazing still, to be able to eat in space without worrying about spin or no gravity." she continued, smiling a little.

Racetrack nodded, a small smile quirking her lips. "I can imagine." she said, then sobered a little in thought.

A nearby crewman, who didn't look a day over fifteen, piped up, egged on by the others at his table. "Do you think you can fight the toasters?"

Kerry paused and turned, looking somewhat more serious. "I am not really a soldier, just an electronics and linguistics specialist, but I'll tell you this much. We've been fighting wars for thousands of years, we've fought them in every conceivable environment, for every conceivable reason, and we're still around to fight some more. If these Cylons decide to make war upon us for sheltering your people, then we shall see." her voice chilled a bit, her growing familiarity with the language still rendering it somewhat stilted, yet... it almost seemed right. "I say, after what the Cylons have already done... bring it on."

There was silence in the room for a moment, then an almost savage sound, as the others all nodded and growled out their agreement.

--

"Impressions so far?" van Hausen asked, inside the cramped compartment.

"They are in rather desperate circumstances, and we are looking at a major league violation of the Ares Convention here." Kerry said, perched in the corner. "Granted, neither the Colonials nor these 'Cylons' ever heard of that, let alone signed it, but that doesn't excuse us from taking that into consideration."

"True, but it also doesn't mean that we will go to war with the Cylons ourselves. Protect these people, certainly, but if the Cylons choose peaceful contact with us..." Pierson said, trailing off at the glances from the other three. "Look, can we really afford a war with an unknown enemy over this? We do not have any casus belli here, Brigadier, and applying the Ares Convention ex post facto is legally and morally wrong. Make clear our displeasure, yes, make clear our intentions vis-a-vis these Colonials, yes. But striking first? Out of the question."

"And the Home..." Kerry began, then stopped at van Hausen's raised hand.

"That's enough, Kerry. Mr Pierson, you are along solely to assist in determining the humanitarian needs and priorities of the Colonists for the Home Office, you are not representing the Foreign Office, nor are you in command of this mission. Am I clear, Sir?"

"But..." Pierson started, earning a poisonous look from PFC Stormfeather and Kerry. "You do not have the authority to initiate military actions on your own, Brigadier, nor do you have the power to commit the Hegemony to war because of your own bloodlust." he snapped, looking mulish.

"And what, precisely, within your brief gives you any qualifications to make that determination, Mr. Pierson?"

"I am the sole representative of the bcivilian/b government here, Brigadier, and you military types are bALWAYS/b subordinate to us." Pierson snapped in response. "And as the senior representative of the civil government..."

The bureaucrat broke off as van Hausen started laughing, looking furious.

"You obviously haven't read the mission brief, Mr. Pierson." the massive officer replied, "Or you would have read this..." he drew out a sheaf of papers, transmitted over HPG and verisigned for authenticity. Pierson looked sick as he looked upon the formal appointment as Envoy to the Refugee Government with Plenipotentiary Powers.

"You can't be..."

"Shut your mouth, Mr. Pierson." van Hausen cut him off, eyes flashing now, voice no longer casual and relaxed, but crisp and sharp. "You will perform your assigned duties, Mr. Pierson, and will confine your opinions and recommendations to them. Ms Sykes-Bannon, please continue."

"Yessir." Kerry replied, smiling once more. "I'm starting to get a full handle on their language, and hopefully we'll be able to gin up a translation program. I've got the rudiments of it already plotted out. They seem to think we are something called the 'Thirteenth Colony' and believe that we all come from someplace called 'Kobol', I got cornered by a few youngsters who were later identified to me as Sagitarrians who kept on talking about their religion, which appears to be very much centered on the Greek pantheon, with even the same names for the Gods and Goddesses, and some of the myths and stories they were bombarding me with sounded familiar with what I know of Greek mythology. I'd like permission to transmit this stuff back to the Uni for their classical studies people to look at."

"Granted. Anything else? Very well. Kerry already knows this, but Admiral Adama has stated that they are expecting several of their iRaptor/i's to be returning shortly with rescued resistance fighters from their destroyed capital world, and that due to 'politics' and an election, a decision as to whether or not this fleet will accept our offer of refuge will be made after the election, which is to be held in a week. We'll be here until that decision is made, and hopefully they will be coming to Hegemony space, I don't think I need to remind any of you of the importance of remaining civil and polite throughout our stay here, is that clear?" he said, looking directly at Pierson while he spoke.

Variations of 'Clear, Sir' filled the compartment, although Pierson looked rather... peeved.

--

"He's going to cause you trouble, Tank" Kerry said once the others had left, still perched in the corner.

"True, but he'll need to go through you to communicate with the Colonials." van Hausen replied.

"That's not what I mean, he's related to the Director-General, granted fairly removed but still, he's got pull back at Center."

"I know, Kerry, I've been fully informed." he replied, smiling then. "trust me."

"That always worries me." Kerry replied, hopping up from the corner and heading for the door. "Whenever you say that, I wind up dragged into yet another crazy idea that was NOT my idea and is NOT in my contract." she continued, grinning a little and winking as she went out the door.

--

**_Colonial One_**

"This is an opportunity we cannot pass by... I know, I know, they are ignorant of their true history, but that doesn't matter, they are from Earth. They think they can deal with the toasters, so... no, it's not our 'responsibility' to keep on going just to 'protect' them, they aren't school children... fine, fine."

A hand slams down the handset...

--

_**Center**_

_**New Geneva, Terran Hegemony in Exile**_

"And I still say you overstepped your bounds, Natalie!"

"I know you do, dear, but I had to. And you know why."

"So we're still living under his shadow, after all these years?"

"Yes... we are. We still haven't paid the debt, Michael, we owe it not only to his memory but to ourselves to do what is right, not merely what is expedient or comfortable. If my choice leads us into war, it will be a just one, for a war to defend the last surviving victims of genocide is always a noble undertaking."

"I know that, but we can't afford it! What if the Great Traitors' followers find us and bring down the full weight of our foes upon us?"

"That is a risk we must take, as our ancestors had to stand up and risk everything. We can do no less than they did. The traitors and fools destroyed the most noble experiment mankind ever embarked upon, and if not for the wisdom, sacrifice and foresight of our ancestors none of us would be free to carry on that legacy. They didn't sacrifice everything for us to be as short-sighted and cynical as the House Lords!"

"Very well, your orders, Director-General?"

"Dispatch TF 14 to reinforce Circe Base, bring all units to DEFCON-TWO and issue a possible war warning, and activate the hotline to the Republic, our cousins need to know about this."


	5. On the Bucket Part III

_**Battlestar Galactica**_

_**Deep Space, January 19th, 3050**_

There was a sense of jubilation in the air, mixed with a strain of grief, as the returning Marines and _Raptor _pilots returned with the surviving resistance fighters from Caprica. The small delegation from the Hegemony tried to stay in the background, not wishing to intrude on the celebrating, but found themselves the object of just about every one of the returning Colonials anyways, as word rapidly spread amongst them that they were 'from the 13th colony!'

As she was the only one of them who could speak Colonial, albeit still with an accent and rather stilted phrasing, Kerry found herself under siege, as dozens of Colonials all crowded around her. The others did what they could to lighten the load, with van Hausen physically keeping some space clear around the linguist with his sheer presence, crossed arms and all. The massive soldier still had a rather placid and friendly expression on his face, but nobody seemed inclined to come too close to somebody who looked like he could bench press a _Viper_. PFC Stormfeather leaned against a bulkhead next to Kerry, ready to intercept any leakers, while Pierson stood off to the side a bit, not looking particularly happy.

"Please, one at a time. I am afraid I do not speak Colonial fully right yet, so all you talking just make harder for me to understand." Kerry said, looking just a bit frazzled. "Let me take questions understand and answer, then more take, OK?"

The crowd subsided a bit at that, listening as the linguist took a deep breath and started.

"Alright, yes, the Terran Hegemony-in-Exile is originally from Earth, what you call the 'Thirteenth Colony'. We have never referred to ourselves as that, and in my studies I have never heard any tales about 'Kobol' or lost colonies. I am not, however, a historian so I cannot be certain. Some of what I have been told about your religious beliefs is similar to what little I know of an ancient Greek religion, with some of the names being of what we call 'Roman' origin, Rome being a successor to Greece in the ancient world and the most powerful Empire of it's day." Kerry began, mentally counting off ticks in her head.

"Earth itself is a very long way from here, at the very center of what we call the Inner Sphere. Before the fall of the Star League the Terran Hegemony, from which we are descended, controlled Earth and the surrounding regions, and was the First among equals within the Star League. Now, the former Hegemony territory is mostly divided between the Successor States with Earth itself under the control of Comstar." she managed to say the word 'comstar' without spitting or appending any curses.

"Now I know from what Admiral Adama has said that you are seeking Earth." she continued, stealing a glance at van Hausen and taking a deep breath. "To get there, you'd have to make your way through the Periphery, where there will be large numbers of pirates and brigands for whom your fleet would represent a bonanza of potential targets. Then, on the most direct path, you'd be travelling through the Free Worlds League, that is, Marik controlled space, which is highly unstable at the best of times. Assuming that House Marik permits you passage, you'd then finally arrive at Earth, and be facing Comstar."

A pause, then a grim smile. "Let me tell you a little about Comstar, based on what our last intelligence mission fifty years ago reported to us. They are a religious cult founded by the man we call the Great Traitor, Jerome Blake." she paused, eyes sweeping the quieter crowd, who were leaning forward a bit. "This cult worships machines and technology." she said simply. "Our intelligence indicates, from intercepted communications and reports from infiltrators, that they secretly have a significant military force, including WarShips and Star League-era BattleMechs securing the system, and that they have developed a fanatical cult believing that they, in obedience to their machine-god, must do all that they can to destabilize the rest of the Inner Sphere, so that they can then conquer it all in the name of Blake." she finished, voice softer into the sudden silence.

"What did you tell them, Kerry?" van Hausen asked softly, not understanding most of what the linguist had said, but picking up on the name 'Blake'.

"I told them about Earth, Tank." she said, equally quietly into the silence.

After a few moments she took another deep breath and opened her mouth to speak again, only to be interrupted. "You mean Earth is under control of a bunch of toaster-lovers?" came an outraged voice from the crowd.

"Not necesarily, we've never met the Cylons, and I cannot predict how Comstar would react to learning about them. Indeed, please be reminded that our information is fifty years out of date, so things may have changed since then, and it's been over two hundred and fifty years since we left the Inner Sphere, so." she shrugged slightly. "We have been sending regular expeditions to the Sphere to keep tabs on what is happening, the latest is not scheduled to return for several more years."

"Now, I've heard some of you ask if we think we could defend against the Cylons. I think we can, our Fleet is quite potent and our defenses are solid. If you accept our offer, the Fleet would first be heading to Circe Base, however as the planet is only marginally habitable, once we have a handle on the basic humanitarian needs we would then have to determine the next step, based on a mutual understanding of what needs to be done. Circe Base, for your information, is guarded by one upgraded Castle Brian as well as four _Skywatch _type Orbital Defense Platforms. When we left word came down that the Stevie A battlegroup was being dispatched, one super-carrier, two battleships, a bunch of lesser craft, plus the local defense forces includes a full _Artemis _squadron and two Aerospace Wings. Brigadier van Hausen wears a couple roles, commander of the Base, representative to you folks, and leader of the Base's Mech complement."

"Mech?" came the question.

"Well, how to explain..." Kerry pursed her lips. "Well, easiest way to do so is this, a BattleMech is a walking tank, between 20 and 100 tons in mass, powered by a fusion engine via myomer bundles that allow for high performance and mobility. The cockpit is usually in the 'head' with the 'arms' serving as highly flexible turrets while the motive force is from the 'legs', additional weapons, the engine and gyroscope, and other things are in the 'body'. The pilot, called a 'Mechwarrior' controls the machine, and are considered amongst the elites in the ground forces. I believe that the garrison is planning a full review and parade for when you arrive, a sort of 'Welcome to the Base' thing, so if you do decide to accept the offer, you'll get to see what I'm talking about, plus it would give our fearless leader here the chance to show off" she gestured with her thumb at van Hausen.

"OK... what was that all about, Kerry?" he asked, sounding suspicious, as the crowd chuckled at that. Kerry didn't say anything, merely aiming a grin up at him, which caused the hulking Brigadier to chuckle slightly and lean back, shaking his head slightly. Besides them, Lydia Stormfeather was grinning as well, watching the interplay.

--

"No, Madame President, we would not expect for you to join the Hegemony, nor do we wish for you to be in any way 'subordinate' to us. We are not in the business of forcing people, even gently, to live under our rule. The only requirement we would have is that you sign and abide by the Ares Convention, but beyond that, once a final settlement is determined you would be completely free to decide your own path. Our offer to protect you is not at all contingent on any political concessions, outside, of course, of the Ares Convention."

"You have mentioned this 'Ares Convention' before, and it seems rather important to you, what, precisely is it?" came the question from Roslin, sitting across the conference table from van Hausen and Kerry.

Kerry drew out a sheet of paper, 8 sided like all of the Colonials paper stocks, and passed it across. "I translated it and, with the assistance of Lt Gaeta, had the full text written out. It's not perfect, but I think it gets across the points of it well enough." she said, after translating the question to van Hausen.

Roslin took her time reading through the papers, one eyebrow lifting slightly. "And signing this is the only requirement that your government would have?"

Kerry translated, then waited as van Hausen leaned forward a bit, translating quickly as he spoke.

"Correct, Madame President. The Ares Convention is part of the very foundation of who we are, adherance to it is deeply engrained within the military of the Hegemony as well as the Republic, and no nation-state that refuses to accept it is, in our eyes, legitimate. War is hellish and evil, Madame President, there is no way to pretty it up, no way to make it less than the awful monster it is. But, back in 2414, we made the decision that as awful as war was, as terrible as it could be, there is a difference between war and wanton destruction and slaughter. This document drew that line, not in sand, but in steel. Others may not take this as seriously as we do, but for us, we are dead serious in our resolve to both follow and enforce this. For over a thousand years, Madame President, for over a thousand years the Hegemony has stood on this principle, we can do nothing else."

After Kerry finished translating the room was quiet, as the various Quorum members looked at each other, murmuring softly under their breaths. After a few moments, Roslin nodded. "Very well." she said simply, then looked to her sides at the assembled Quorum members. "Any further questions for them?" she then said, sounding just a bit weary.

There was a general murmuring then, but no actual questions, as the hours long session finally drew to a close.

--

**_Battlestar Galactica_**

**_Deep Space, January 22nd 3050_**

"I don't really get it, now both candidates have stated that they want to accept the offer, right?" Kerry asked, sounding a bit aggrieved as she sat in the messhall with Racetrack and Kara 'Starbuck' Thrace.

Racetrack had had plenty of time to get used to the linguists version of Caprican and impish ways, while Starbuck was just getting to know her, but the two had hit it right off, being both rebellious sorts.

"Simple, the politicians don't want to make a decision until after the election." Starbuck said, leaning back and taking a drink. "And the old man is letting them babble so long as the Fleet is safe."

Kerry chuckled, nodding in wry agreement. "We get that too, although fortunately the Director-General is usually inclined to cut through the blabbering idiots and get things done."

Racetrack chuckled and nodded as well, but remained silent for the moment. "At least it's almost over." she said, shrugging.

"Yup, no more frakking around, unless the idiot wins, then he'll keep on dithering." Starbuck replied, tossing off the rest of her drink and standing. "I have a patrol to fly, catch ya later."

"Sure thing, Starbuck." Kerry replied, draining her own mug.

The pilot left, leaving Racetrack and Kerry alone at the table.

--

**_High Orbitals, Circe Base_**

Twenty WarShips of various classes slid soundlessly into orbit above Circe Base, the flare of their thrusters and the glow of their running lights the only illumination, apart from the faint reflections from the nightside surface. The behemoths ranged from 200,000 ton Corvettes to 2 Million ton battleships and the 2.5 million ton supercarrier at the very heart of the formation. Around them many other DropShips of various types moved between the giants, ranging from sleek and deadly assault dropships to bulky cargo vessels. Smaller yet, mere gnats in comparison, flew the tiny forms of Aerospace Fighters, forming a large Combat Space Patrol about the fleet, supplementing the planetary patrols.

--

**_Deep Space, HDU-54.3_**

The small red star burned sullenly, throwing a pallid illumination over the belts of asteroids and debris left over from creation, all orbitting about in supreme indifference to the whims of man and machine. Hidden deep within the belts was a small outpost, well concealed from detection.

This system, Hegemony Designate Uninhabited-54 orbital 3, had long been home to one of the more enterprising pirate bands in the region, using the hollowed out asteroid as a base of operations to hit and run, and relying on the remoteness and treacherous approach paths to keep the Hegemony Navy from finding their hideout. A single, much battered _Leopard _dropship burned steadily on the approach, most of the crew drunk and rowdy following a successful raid.

Suddenly a massive jump signature registered on the small Dropships sensors, startling the bridge crew as it was not only gigantic, but also far away from any pirate point. While most of the crew was drinking and carousing, the bridge watch was stone-cold sober, but even they were so startled that they could barely believe what their sensors were saying.

"Gotta be a malfunction, goddamnit, JAKINS! Yo skeghead, ya fucked up the sensors again, spill yer drink on the console or something, dipshit?"

"Shut the fuck up, asshole. Diag is all green and... WHAT THE FUCK!"

Suddenly a massive contact appeared, less than a kilometer away... a gigantic battleship sized construct, huge and intimidating. Before the pirates could do much more than gawk, a sudden torrent of missiles erupted, racing towards the DropShip and obliterating it from space.

There were no survivors.


	6. History of the Hegemony

_**Cylon Basestar**_

_**Deep Space, HDU-54.3 January 22nd 3050**_

"There is absolutely nothing in the warbook that matchs that ship. Nothing in any of the nets, nothing anywhere." Boomer said, sounding frustrated as the former _Galactica _officer stood in the control room of the massive Basestar. "And the debris, some of the materials are familiar, but some bits are just plain odd, and the writing... nothing resembling any language we've ever encountered."

"No other contacts on DRADIS, although the ionic residue indicates that there is significant traffic, but the particles don't match any Colonial or Cylon trail residue." put in a Simon. "This system is lousy with asteroids, however, including many that are extremely rich in tylium ore."

Caprica-Six walked into the control room then, looking somewhat grim, but not saying anything. After several long, uncomfortable moments of silence, Boomer looked around at the other gathered humaniform Cylons. "They have to be somewhere around here, perhaps they will be coming here for the tylium, and then we can see if they are willing to live in peace, under our protection."

One of the Cavil's snorted, but didn't say anything, even as the several Conoy's and Three's in the control room looked similarly skeptical... but they all held their peace for the moment.

Boomer, however, didn't stay silent, instead she looked around the room and took a deep breath. "We already agreed on this, so long as we are in control, we are safe, and there is no need for us to continue killing them. Hopefully they will see reason..." _hopefully before the others get impatient looking and waiting, that is._

"There were human remains found within the wreckage." Caprica-Six said softly, leaning on a railing. Meanwhile, the hybrid simply murmured quietly, a background drone of nonsense that accompanied any visit to the control room.

"They tried to ram us!" one of the Five's said sharply. "That alone is a hostile act, we should forget this foolishness and exterminate the humans immediately."

"We jumped in front of them." Caprica-Six said, sounding a bit exasperated. "They could not have known we were going to jump here, now!"

"Perhaps it is a sign from God, that there will be no peace with humans." came from one of the Conoy's.

"Or perhaps it was just a frakking accident." Boomer said, trying to keep her temper in check. The simmering argument abruptly stilled however, as more data came into the net.

"No tylium traces?" came from the Simon, the Cavil, Boomer and Caprica-Six almost simultaneously.

"That wasn't a Colonial ship." Boomer said, looking worried. "It can't have been, they all use tylium fuel. Perhaps..."

"What?" came from the Cavil.

"Perhaps that ship came from the Thirteenth Colony..." Boomer said slowly, looking around the suddenly silent group of Cylons, even the Hybrid had gone silent...

--

**_Battlestar Galactica_**

**_Deep Space, January 23rd 3050_**

"Hrmmmm, where to start." Kerry mused, sitting across the desk from Admiral Adama in his office, next to van Hausen. "I am not a historian, Admiral, but I will try and explain as best I can, at least about the Hegemony in Exile. Brigadier van Hausen is more versed in the military aspects of it, but I'll do my best."

"Understood." Adama said, smiling thinly as he leaned forward a bit, glancing between the two.

"To get to the start of it, back in 2312, a few years before the Terran Alliance collapsed, the _TAS Discovery_ disappeared while on a deep survey mission. She was presumed lost, however in 2320 she reappeared, in extremely bad shape and with over half of her crew dead. It was learned that there was a severe misjump, somehow the KF drive field had done something wierd and the ship wound up extremely deep into the Periphery, so deep it took 8 years to make it back." Kerry began, her command of the Colonial tongue significantly improved by now, although she certainly couldn't yet pass as a native.

"When iTAS Discovery/i had left, the Terran Alliance was a relatively small and politically paralyzed power, albeit a democracy and one where the rule of law was respected. When she returned, the Terran Alliance was no more, Admiral McKenna had overthrown the government and reigned as the first Director-General of the Terran Hegemony. Captain Silas Putnam, the commander of the _Discovery _was appalled, not so much that the corrupt and moribund Alliance had been overthrown, but that a member of the military had staged a coup to do so. You see, Captain Putnam was a member of the Order of the Cincinnati, which..." she trailed off and looked to van Hausen, murmuring a question to him.

Van Hausen nodded, leaning forward slightly and looking Adama in the eye while he spoke, with Kerry translating. "The Order of the Cincinnati is now the single oldest hereditary order in existance, able to trace it's history to the 18th century. I myself am not a member, as I am not qualified for such due to not being able to trace my ancestry to an officer of either the Continental or State Line during the American War of Independance. I am not fully familiar with the Society, although I do know that they, like all living things, have evolved beyond their founders vision. At the time, however, one of the most important tenets of the Order of the Cincinnati was the preservation of free, democratic governance, but also the vital respect and subordination of the military to the civil authorities."

He leaned back then, nodding slightly to Kerry who smiled and continued on her own. "Well, while Captain Putnam turned over most of his astrographic data, he and his crew, who were fiercely loyal to him, disguised much more of it. According to the data, they had wound up in a system which was fully habitable, if a bit harsh in climate, but with little resources or wealth. In reality, they had wound up in the center of an incredibly rich and fertile star cluster."

The linguist took a sip of water, then continued. "McKenna, who was facing quite a bit of unrest and dissent from many quarters for his actions, decided to take a book from Earth's history, and use that system, so incredibly remote that it would take years to make the trip and so poor that there would be absolutely no industry, as a prison planet to ship dissidents against his rule to. The first such expedition departed a year later, almost a million political prisoners who were to be dumped onto the planet with absolutely nothing, no food, no supplies, no tools, no clothing, nothing. By dumping them out there, McKenna felt that he would be able to maintain the illusion of freedom and peace at home, while ensuring that they would never be able to return, and simultaneously keep the military from growing disenchanted or excessively violent against the civilian population by not authorizing massacres."

"However," Kerry continued, a slight smile now on her face, "Captain Putnam still knew of that cluster, and moreover knew who he could talk with within the Hegemony Armed Forces and Bureau of Colonization, fellow members of the Order. A year after the first batch of political prisoners was sent off, sympathizers within the Bureau of Colonization and the Fleet had managed to organize a colonization expedition to the cluster itself, entering false data into the Hegemony databanks about the destination. Over the next century, there were dozens of 'failed colonies' that set out from Hegemony space into the Periphery and vanished... colonies organized by the Order of Cincinnati."

"Was anything done about the prison planet?" Adama asked, voice neutral.

"They did what they could without revealing themselves, supplies of seed, tools and such were secretly slipped to the surface, but the surveillance grid was rather complete, so not much could be done without detection." Kerry replied, after a whispered consultation with van Hausen.

"Now, in 2450, just over a century after the secret colonization effort had gotten started, there was a bit of a schism within the leadership, mostly concerning the increasing liberalization of the Hegemony itself and whether or not it would be wise to reveal themselves to the Hegemony in the hope of encouraging them down that path. Up to that time, they had been calling themselves the 'Rim Republic', but partisan pressures were building, especially as news came of the ongoing Age of War. It all boiled over in 2462 with a ballot fraud scandal that rocked the Republic, the ruling anti-Hegemony party was caught conducting rather significant ballot box stuffing. In the wave of recriminations that followed, the government tried to use the small military that had been built up to hold power, breaking up riots and such, but things built up to the point where the majority of the Army pointblank declared their orders 'illegal' and refused to follow them. In the ensuing riots, the government fell, the leaders fleeing New Geneva to their party stronghold on Wayout. New elections were held, with the pro-Hegemony party winning a solid victory."

Another sip of water, and Kerry shrugged. "Now, I'm real fuzzy on what happened next, it was a very confusing period and again, I'm not a historian, but by 2470 the Rim Republic had fractured completely, the 'Rump' on Wayout eventually declared themselves the Rim Federal Republic and declared war upon the rest, seeking to retake complete control by force. Some of the minor colonies on the fringes declared independance from everybody else, and several of them to this day comprise the minor states of the Fringe. The rest, decided to declare themselves to the Hegemony secretly while holding out against the Rim Federal Republic's attacks."

"In 2480 the JumpShip sent to contact the Terran Hegemony with the message from the cluster discovered that the Age of War was still in full swing, with a new Director-General in command of the Hegemony, Elizabeth Cameron. Contact was discrete, but positive, and in 2485 a small task force of the Hegemony Armed Forces arrived in the Cluster and routed the Rim Federal Republic's offensive, remaining as the garrison for the new outpost for the Hegemony."

Kerry took another drink of water, then frowned a little. "Honestly, I couldn't begin to tell you the many little things that took place for the next while, the next thing I can remember is what happened when the Star League was formed, which had a jarring impact on the entire Cluster. You see, Ian Cameron was... a throwback, of sorts, to McKenna, and was insanely ambitious. However, he was also extremely smart and insightful. How much of that came from his wife, Shandra Noruff, is debateable, but regardless, when Ian became Director-General he turned to diplomacy and peacemaking rather than conquest. Quite honestly, both the Cluster and the Order applauded this, what a great idea! Bring peace and prosperity and freedom and all that nice stuff to the entire Inner Sphere!" Kerry chuckled a bit bitterly. "How wrong we were, Ian had everybody fooled. No sooner was the ink dry on the Star League Accords than Ian decided to force the Periphery States, which hadn't wanted to be a part of a League dominated by the Great Houses, into the fold, by brutal force if needed. Indeed, he even renounced the Ares Conventions and unleashed Mass Destruction attacks against the Periphery states to force them into submission."

"Now, what was interesting was that after dispatching that task force, the Hegemony had been mostly ignoring the Cluster, we were so far away that we simply didn't register that strongly. This... would be pretty significant." Kerry said, pausing for a moment to re-gather her thoughts.

"To really understand what happened next, you need to know one major story, one I actually am pretty familiar with. You see, Ian Cameron and Shandra Noruff had several children, only one of whom, Nicholas Cameron, would inherit his father's position. However, Lisandra Noruff-Cameron, the only daughter, is who this is about. Lisandra was an officer in the Star League Defense Forces, one of the youngest WarShip commanders ever, commanding a _Lola-I_ class destroyer on detached duty in action against the Rim Worlds Republic. Throughout the campaign, her ship and a Rim Worlds _Pinto _class corvette constantly duelled, the other captain being at least as skilled and clever as Lisandra was, and frustrating the more powerful Star League destroyer's attacks, usually through clever evasive manuevers and ambushs. Despite the increasing numbers of confirmed kills against other Republic forces, this one _Pinto _would escape time and time again. When the Reunification War ended in 2597, Lisandra finally met the captain of that _Pinto_, Anthony Amaris, the second son of Gregory Amaris."

Kerry smiled a bit as she spoke, sipping her water from time to time. "Anthony and Lisandra, despite the situation, actually respected each other a great deal. While the final settlements for the incorporation of the Rim Worlds Republic into the Star League as an 'Associated Power' were being negotiated, Lisandra was, officially, Anthony's jailor, but unofficially and quite under the table, the two were becoming more and more attracted to each other. However, Ian found out about his daughter's 'boyfriend', and decided to make use of that long forgotten prison planet... ordering about two dozen of the most effective Periphery officers arrested and transported there as a signal of the 'price' of defying the Star League, that number including Anthony."

"Lisandra was furious, she'd believed in the ideals of the Star League, like her mother had, and her own father was acting in this way, violating his own word and behaving like an autocratic beast. Her crew was loyal to her, would literally have followed her into a black hole if she led them there, and Anthony's old crew aboard his _Pinto _was just as devoted. But, honestly, they both knew that there was nothing that could be done, a single corvette and destroyer could never hope to defy the entire strength of the SLDF fleet."

Adama was listening throughout, although he was looking a bit impatient at the apparantly unrelated tale.

"Well, and here's where things get interesting, Lisandra's XO was a member of the Order of the Cincinnati... and knew where the prison planet was. Moreover, other members of the Order had been growing more and more disenchanted with the Star League after the brutality of the Reunification War and Ian's behavior, and one of them was in charge of data security for the SLDF. He managed to conceal the data about this cluster, deleting most references to it and purging the SLDF astro database of the route to the Cluster itself. Meanwhile, Anthony's old XO was put in command of the _Pinto_. which was sent out on patrol... while Lisandra took her _Lola I_ out on her own patrol. Once both were a few jumps out, they both changed course, linking up with each other. The _Pinto _was carrying a single _Mammoth _class dropship on it's one dropcollar, loaded with supplies and fuel, to support the two vessels on the long journey."

Adama lifted one eyebrow, a somewhat wry expression on his face, but remained silent, nodding a little as he listened.

Kerry grinned a bit. "I'll spare you all the holoromance parts, but in 2605 the Cluster, apart from the Rim Federal Republic which was engaging in much shadenfreunde and gloating, declared itself to be the Terran Hegemony in Exile. The same year, Lisandra led a raid on the prison planet, liberating thousands of surviving prisoners, including Anthony, and continued on to the Cluster itself. In 2606 the two of them got married, and in 2610 Lisandra stood for election to the Terran Hegemony in Exile's Parliament, winning the contested seat handily. In 2616, she was elected Director-General of the Terran Hegemony in Exile. Thus, a Cameron sat at the helm of both the Star League, namely Nicholas Cameron, and at the head of the Terran Hegemony in Exile, an irony not lost on many."

Adama chuckled at that, nodding. "And there was no contact between the two?"

"Not really, the Order still knew of the Cluster's existance, and fed a great deal of data and organized 'colonial expeditions' that would wind up there, but the Star League as a whole was quite ignorant of the existance of the cluster." Kerry replied. "They also arranged to 'lose' shipments of equipment whenever they could without getting caught. Now, don't get me wrong, the Star League was hardly a dictatorship, and in fact can be rightly considered to have been the Golden Age, but it wasn't perfect either, and contained the seeds of it's own destruction."

"Now we need to jump forward again, not too much happened, apart from occassional border skirmishs with the Rim Federal Republic and expansion of the Hegemony in Exile, for a long time. However, things abruptly changed in 2784. Contact had been nonexistant with the Order for over a decade by that point, when suddenly a mass of Jumpships and Warships started trickling in, carrying refugees from the collapse of the Star League. The trickle rapidly became a flood, as word came that the Star League had indeed fallen, that General Kerensky had led the SLDF out of the Inner Sphere, and the Great Houses were beginning to dismember the corpse of the Terran Hegemony. In less than a decade, over two billion refugees arrived in the Cluster, guided by the last remnants of the Order of the Cincinnati who had survived the brutal fighting." Kerry sounded grim as she recounted the history, and Adama was frowning, rubbing his forehead with one hand as he listened in silence.

"We eventually were able to figure out what had happened, how things collapsed so quickly and completely. The 'popular' story was that Stephan Amaris had managed to fool a young and inexperienced Richard Cameron, massacred the entire Cameron line, siezed power in his megalomaniacal hunger for control, and that Kerensky had fought a heroic war to liberate Terra from his 'dictatorial' grip. However, there was alot of data that just didn't fit that the Order had generated, records that they brought with them that showed a somewhat different tale."

"Richard wasn't 'young and inexperienced', young, perhaps, but also insane, at least in the way that foolish young royals can be when they listen to bad advice and believe themselves the pinnacle of creation. And it wasn't Amaris, it wasn't Kerensky, it was the never-sufficiently bedamned Great Traitor who was behind it all. He's been called the Rasputin of the Star League, and I have no idea what that means, but regardless it was his malign fanaticism that led to the entire collapse." her expression was hard, looking incongrous on a face that was normally grinning and cheerful. "Jerome Blake... just one more bureaucrat with the Department of Communications, yet an ambitious and capable one... he managed to catch young Richard's ear, and used his position, in charge of all communications into and out of the capital, to advance his own agenda. Blake was a religious zealot, who fervently believed that God wanted him to 'punish' humanity for it's sins..."

Adama reared back as if slapped, looking surprised and shocked, while Kerry nodded. "Yes, I know that matchs what little you know about the Cylon religion." she said softly. "But Blake managed to get to the point where Richard was under his thumb, and fed the young man's own ego and sense of self until, when the Council refused to follow his every whim, Richard resolved to break the Council and smash any who would dare oppose his rule. We have the original, verisigned and sealed by Richard, of an Executive Directive disavowing the Ares Conventions and ordering the SLDF to destroy the capital worlds of all of the Great Houses and Periphery states with massed orbital bombardment and WMD releases, ordering the arrest and execution of all 'enemies of the Star League', to be defined by roving death squads, suspending all of the 'liberties' of the citizenry for the 'duration of the emergency' and dissolving the Council. However, Richard believed that Amaris would support him, but Stefan instead acted to stop him. From what we can tell, what Amaris actually ordered was for his forces to take all members of House Cameron into protective custody and to confine Richard and keep him incommunicado until the Council could take action and select a replacement, however the order that was transmitted was to kill them all... which was done. The Great Traitor and his followers within the Ministry of Communications deliberately faked the orders, unleashed the massacre and destroyed any chance for the situation being resolved peacefully, before fleeing from Earth and declaring loudly their own version of events, painting Amaris as a brutal opportunist."

"Kerensky believed Blake, and thus the Amaris-Kerensky Civil War began, which resulted in the annihilation of the Rim Worlds Republic and the shattering of the Terran Hegemony leading to the total collapse of the Star League. Now, Amaris was no saint, he was an ambitious man and he certainly did plenty of evil things, but he wasn't the total monster that the Inner Sphere believes him to have been. At the conclusion of the war, everything was in chaos within the Terran Hegemony, and the House Lords siezed their chance, stripping Kerensky of his authority and dissolving the Star League. Since then, all of the House Lords have been fighting brutal Succession Wars, each vying for control over the entire Inner Sphere. It was from the absolute and massive destruction of the first of the Succession Wars that the wave of refugee's came, with only the few Order members knowing the route to get to the Cluster. Since then, the only 'contact' has come from our spy missions into the Inner Sphere, using some of our _Bug-eye_ spy vessels."

"And that's really it, in a nutshell. I can't stress enough that I'm no historian, I might have dates off, and I don't really know most of the details. I know the story of Lisandra and Anthony because of how romantic it seemed to me when I was a kid, and how ironic it is that the last surviving Cameron's and Amaris' are both here in the Cluster." Kerry finished quietly, looking steadily across the desk at Adama, who had recovered from the surprise and was again calmly regarding the pair.


	7. Refuge

_**Command Center**_

_**Circe Base, January 24th, 3050**_

"Yes, I know it's been a while, Major, but there is no reason to believe that anything untoward has occurred, we were told that there might be a delay of up to two weeks before they'd arrive back." came from the comm.

"I know that, Sir, but combined with the report from that _Scout _that showed up here earlier, I think there is a definate possibility of their being a hostile force nearby." Major Piachi said, sounding slightly frustrated.

"We are already at DEFCON-2, and are maintaining as tight a sensor watch as we can." came the response. "Stay frosty, Major, we are not upgrading the Alert status at this time, clear?"

"Clear, Sir." she replied, flatly and looking somewhat disgruntled. Around her, in the spacious central command post of the Base, technicians worked at consoles surrounding an immense holoviewer which currently displayed a slightly abstracted system display, tracking every object within 15 AU of the Base.

--

**_Battlestar Galactica_**

**_Deep Space, January 25th, 3050_**

Election Day. It really wasn't all that different from any other day, in the crowded fleet of refugee ships and aboard the two Battlestar's, but there was a feeling in the air, an energy... Each ship handled their own tallies, and the voting was brisk, with reporters covering the stories and interviewing people before promptly broadcasting their predictions.

By the evening, a definate pattern was emerging. Baltar had never really developed much traction, there were no issues he had been able to exploit apart from Roslin's stance on abortion, and even that had fizzled out in the sudden glow from the discovery of the Thirteenth Colony. As the first returns came in, it was obvious that Roslin was headed for a landslide victory, and even before the counting had been completed, Baltar had already conceded the race.

A half hour later, the newly reelected President Roslin stepped up to a podium, the cameras of the reporters focused on her.

--

**_Cylon BaseStar_**

**_Deep Space, HDU-54.3, January 25th, 3050_**

"Still nothing solid, sensor ghosts here and there, but nothing else." Simor reported, sounding frustrated. "Had a possible DRADIS contact, but when we sent in Raiders there was nothing there. This system is simply too densely filled with asteroids and dust for long-range sensors to be effective at all."

Boomer nodded, looking around at the faces of the other leaders of their respective models. "That contact was way out to the system north, and with the configuration of the orbital debris... directly back along the vector that ship was on."

Caprica-Six nodded, then leaned forward, looking around as well. "I propose we leave a Heavy Raider to watch this area and jump the BaseStar to near that point, it's the only tentative clue we've had at all since arriving here."

The Five snorted "Now you are chasing shadows! First it was 'we were wrong' in eliminating those flawed creations, then it was 'lets leave them alone in peace' and now it's 'Lets chase shadows and pretend we are accomplishing something. Frak it, you two 'Heroes' have been"

He was cut off by Simon. "They are right, Five, we agreed. Let us do this, it may allow us to generate more useful data." he said, relatively softly.

--

**_Circe Base_**

**_High Orbitals, January 26th, 3050_**

The tiny _Raptor _was a gnat amongst titans, it's 50 ton mass dwarved into pale insignificance as it floated in space besides two million tons of armor and guns. Inside, Racetrack was again at the controls, with Skulls again serving as ECO. In the back, Brigadier van Hausen, Ambrose Pierson and PFC Stormfeather were the only passengers, Kerry having remained behind to assist with any traffic control communications upon the arrival of the main fleet.

Using a somewhat jerryrigged addition to _Raptor_'s comm, van Hausen hailed the flagship of TF 14. "This is Brigadier van Hausen, authenticator Bravo Tango Niner Foxtrot Whiskey Uniform Three Six. Refugee fleet will be jumping in in Two hours, repeat, Two hours. All ships are advised to clear orbitals within 250 kilometers of this units emergence point. Repeat, Two Five Zero kilometer clear zone."

"We copy, Two hours until emergence of Refugee fleet, Two Five Zero kilometer clearance from plotted emergance point. Admiral Chavez' compliments and it shall be done." came the response.

"Thank you, please contact Major Piachi for me and advise her that I have returned. If it would be convenient for the Admiral I would like to hold a SitRep briefing before the refugee's arrive."

"Acknowledged, one moment." came from the headset, then a few seconds later. "Agreed, Sir, Admiral Chavez is groundside at this time, requesting briefing in Three Zero minutes."

"Understood, we will set down and briefing in Three Zero minutes. Tank out."

Van Hausen smiled as he set the microphone down, looking out the cockpit window from where he half-crouched behind the pilot and ECO. Beside the _Raptor _floated the bulk of the _HWS Implacable_, a _Dreadnought _class Battleship. Barely visible beyond the mighty battlewagon was the even more massive mountain of armor _HWS Charlemagne_, lead ship of the _Charlemagne _class of supercarriers. On the far side of the carrier, another _Dreadnought_. this one _HWS Republic _floated in the vastness of space, forming the third element of the core of TF 14.

"Land please do." he said, butchering the memorized Colonial phrase that Kerry had drilled into him prior to his departure, drawing a smile from Racetrack and a slight chuckle from Skulls. Van Hausen himself grinned as he moved back into the passenger compartment and strapped himself back in.

The _Raptor _began dropping into atmosphere, the escorting _Sparrowhawk II_ aerospace fighters matching the manuever as Racetrack consulted the landing pattern chart that Kerry had drawn for her.

--

**_Circe Base_**

**_Main Conference Room, January 26th 3050_**

"Primary requirements will be food and medical care, I saw the prefab housing already erected while on approach, and according to Major Piachi all services have been run. While this is a temporary facility, we saw no reason not to make it as comfortable as possible and after being aboard iGalactica/i I definately believe that these people need the chance to rest in a safe environment that is not crowded like sardine cans with crap excuses for rations."

The conference room was rather large, as it served double duty as the centerpoint of the occassional training exersizes supported by the Base. The four individuals inside rattled around like small peas in a very large pod. Brigadier van Hausen and Major Piachi sat across the table from a slender grey-haired woman who seemed a bit out of place dressed in the white and black uniform of a senior Admiral, while the man beside her looked like he could give nail eating lessons to the toughest Marines, despite being a fireplug of a man who was even shorter than his Admiral.

"Now, you all have gotten a copy of the report that Specialist Sykes-Bannon compiled, and I have sent the 'Useful Phrases' booklet to the printers to be distributed to all Base personnel. Several things that I feel must be highlighted. Battlearmor and Mechs should only be displayed in a context that makes it clear that they are human controlled vehicles and not independant robots. The Colonials have had extremely negative experiences at the hands of robotic war machines and will no doubt have a highly negative reaction to any that they encounter. Second, their religion appears to be highly Hellenistic Greek in form, and they believe that all humans come from a planet called 'Kobol', and that we are descended from a 'Thirteenth Colony'. A good number of them are quite serious about this religion, so caution in that area is indicated." van Hausen continued, consulting the small notebook sitting in front of him.

"You said that there was at least one of the biological Cylons within the fleet itself, correct?" Admiral Maribelle Chavez asked, while her Chief of Staff took notes at her side.

"Correct, Ma'am. Sharon 'Athena' Agathon, who evidently has earned the trust of the Fleet leadership. Specialist Sykes-Bannon spent some time speaking with her, and reports that she appears to be completely human, right down to reactions and such. Indeed, evidently 'Athena' and her husband had a child, although apparantly the girl died soon after birth. I say apparantly because, according to Specialist Sykes-Bannon their Dr Cottle seemed just a bit evasive about the whole thing."

"Interesting, I trust that Mrs Agathon will be available for discussions?" Chavez asked. Despite the rank difference, it was an ironclad principle of Hegemony command that a Base Commander, like van Hausen, always had ultimate authority and responsibility for activities within his or her command area, thus even a flag officer two full grades above him would still follow his instructions. Of course, in practice, that principle was often bent.

"She will be, Ma'am, not only are the Colonials agreeable, but Mrs Agathon volunteered to do so. I am hopeful that she is representative of the other biological Cylons, in which case there is a chance we may indeed be able to convince them to behave peacefully." van Hausen replied, taking a drink from a glass of icewater resting on the armorplas table.

"Good, I will leave you to your duties, Brigadier, thank you for taking the time for this briefing." Chavez said, rising from the table with a smile.

"My pleasure, Admiral." he replied, rising himself.

--

**_Low Orbitals_**

**_Circe Base, January 26th, 3050_**

"Pre-emergence signature detected, multiple signatures detected in designated arrival area. Repeat, multiple point-source pre-emergence signatures detected... emergence in 30 seconds." came the sudden report from the Sensor section.

"Confirm all within designated clear zone." came the quick command.

"Plotting... confirmed, all within designated zone. Emergence in 10 seconds."

Ten seconds later, the empty space that had been cleared for the arrival of the refugee fleet started to fill up, as with flashs of energy small ships, many looking rather beat up and ramshackle, started appearing. Most of them were smaller than many Dropships, others were the size of smaller JumpShips... none were particularly massive, but there were large gaps in the formation still.

Stronger emergence signatures appeared, then a pair of giants appeared amidst the minnows... Massive, easily matching the largest Hegemony WarShips, _Galactica _and _Pegasus _flashed into existance at the conclusion of their jumps.

"Checking count... matchs, all ships accounted for, Ma'am" came the call.

"Contact Circe Base and update them then establish a link to Specialist Sykes-Bannon."

--

**_Battlestar Galactica CIC_**

**_Circe Base, January 26th, 3050_**

There was a sense of relief, suppressed exuberance, and an undefinable sadness in the air, as reports flowed in from the rest of the fleet. The DRADIS contacts on the main plot, contacts labelled as 'friendlies', told part of the tale, the burning lights in the darkness of the night-shrouded planet below them told the rest. They were no longer hunted prey, chased by the Cylons, they had found shelter... they were in from the cold.

Kerry was standing in a corner, trying to keep out of the way, but the target of quite a few appreciative smiles as the CIC crew simply exulted in the moment. Even Colonel Tigh was affected, grinning broadly and looking more relaxed than he had for months, while Adama somehow managed to remain the serene center, contenting himself with a smile.

A soft beep drew Kerry's attention, and the linguist activated her comlink. "Specialist Sykes-Bannon, ComCorps, Shipping and Receiving." she says, eyes twinkling a little before sobering quickly. "Sorry, Ma'am, understood... understood. Will do." she deactivated the commlink and swore under her breath.

Switching to Colonial, she stepped forward. "Admiral Adama, Sir. Admiral Chavez's compliments, and Circe Base is ready to receive the first wave of atmosphere capable craft, shuttles are in position to serve as guides." she said formally, drawing herself to the best 'attention' she'd managed in months. "On behalf of ComCorps, and the Hegemony as a whole... welcome." she continued, before snapping off a picture perfect salute.


	8. Swashbuckling Diplomacy

_**Refugee Housing**_

_**Circe Base, January 27th, 3050**_

There was order within the seeming chaos, as tens of thousands of refugees streamed from the landing field to the prefabricated structures that would be their homes for the near future. A constant stream of buses made the circuit, while large trucks carried the few personal possessions of the survivors to the assigned quarters.

It had taken a herculean all night effort by Kerry and Lt Gaeta to assemble the full lists and get them matched up with suitable units, but despite the black circles under their eyes and their general physical exhaustion, just seeing the effort working seemed to keep them energized enough.

The prefabricated structures were designed for rapid erection and mid to long term habitation in the event of natural disasters, and were rather plain and basic in design. Each building had two floors with four units on each floor, yielding 8 'units' per structure, each of which could easily accomodate a family of 5. The buildings themselves were only modestly furnished, a couple memory foam beds, rugged plastic and memory foam furniture, two bathrooms each with a shower and one with a full bath, and a modest little kitchenette with appliances.

The buildings themselves were set in blocks of four, with ferroconcrete walks between them. At the center of each block was a small cleared area that had been planted with a hardy species of grass, serving as a small park. The blocks themselves were arranged along wide roads, with larger structures interspersed at regular intervals, buildings intended as combination schools, community recreation centers and mess halls, with attached industrial kitchens.

Upon landing, each person, irregardless of age, had been given a plastic-coated booklet, about 30 pages in total, on which were printed phrases and words in both Colonial and English, complete with pronounciation guides. And amongst the pages, were basic operating instructions for all the appliances, translated into Colonial by a frazzled Kerry.

The communal kitchens were currently manned by volunteers from the Base itself, however the intention was to turn them all over to the inhabitants as soon as possible. Likewise, structures had been set aside to serve as shops and quite a few were simply empty, wired for electricity, water and sewage but otherwise unpurposed.

--

**_Cloud Nine_**

**_Low Orbit, Circe Base, January 28th, 3050_**

The corridors were mostly empty, with only a few crewmembers bustling about engaged in various tasks. Kerry, Sharon Agathon and Lt Gaeta were trailing along behind a slightly older man, threading through the corridors to a somewhat out of the way set of compartments.

"Are you sure about this, Kerry?" Sharon said, sounding a bit uncertain herself.

"Yes, I am. We think we may have a lead on where the Cylons are, and we want a trusted representative of the peace movement along when we go to meet them, along with somebody President Roslyn trusts" she pointed casually at Gaeta. "and you, for obvious reasons."

"I can understand Felix and myself, but why one of them?" Sharon pressed, as the turned a corner.

"Trust, Sharon, it's all about trust. Right now we have a large store of it, amongst you folks, but it's always wiser to make deposits into that bank than to make withdrawals. Having representatives of multiple different viewpoints along will help make it clear that we are being open and honest with you all." Kerry explained, smiling a little as they reached a hatch.

"Here." the man leading the trio said, a bit gruffly as he gestured towards the hatch. "And remember your word." he continues, glaring at Gaeta.

"I will." Kerry said, gazing steadily at him, then turning and going through the hatch, followed by Sharon and Felix.

Once inside, Kerry looked around quickly, before looking at the two who waited for them inside. The room was rather plain, especially for a room aboard the former luxury liner, with Demand Peace literature on the sidetables.

An older man with glasses, and a younger woman also wearing glasses, were already seated at a couch, neither of them rising as the trio entered.

"Royan Jahee I presume?" Kerry said to the man, smiling as she crossed towards the table but didn't sit down, remaining standing. Gaeta followed, but Sharon had stopped at the threshold, staring at the woman.

"Yes, and you are the linguist from the Thirteenth Tribe, yes?" the man said, smiling back faintly.

Before Kerry could answer, Sharon spoke. "You..." she said softly, stepping forward, eyes locked with the other woman, who returned the look with haunted eyes.

Gaeta looked confused, turning to look at Sharon, while both Kerry and Royan also seemed a bit nonplussed by the non-sequitor. The honey-blonde woman herself was silent, shrinking back just a little. Kerry broke the awkward silence first. "Sharon?" she said simply, looking between the two.

"Lieutenant, go outside and make sure we aren't disturbed." Sharon said softly, taking a step forward. "Now."

Gaeta blinked, but didn't respond, although he certainly looked confused as he stepped back and out the door.

Kerry blinked as well, and turned to face Athena fully. "What the... what is going on here?"

The other woman answered instead of Sharon. "She knows who I am..." she said softly, her voice shaking slightly as she stood up. "What I am..."

Athena simply nodded, but didn't say anything. Royan simply looked confused and a bit annoyed at the odd byplay. Kerry, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes, looking more closely at the other woman. "What you are..." she said softly, then nodded, folding her hands behind her back. "Gina Inviere, I presume then?"

Gina turned to look at Kerry, eyes big behind the lenses of her glasses, part of the disguise which had concealed her identity, then took a breath and nodded.

Whatever reaction she'd been expecting, however, was not what she got, for Kerry simply smiled at that. "Ahhhh." she said, then glanced to Royan. "She is a senior part of your leadership, Sir, would you trust her as your representative for this mission?" she said softly, eyes tracking right back to Gina.

"Of course I do, she has been a... wait a second..." he blinked, looking at Gina suddenly, then smiling. "You could have told me you were a Cylon! And here you are, part of a peace movement, after everything that those brutes did to you! How wonderful!" he actually seemed younger than he had before, vitalized. "I knew it! Cylons and humans CAN live in peace!" he made to rise, beaming, while Gina shrunk in on herself, swallowing and looking somewhat stricken... and confused.

Kerry smiled at that outburst. "Yes, indeed a good sign, Sir." she replied to Royan, then stepped forward and held out one hand to Gina. "Kerry Sykes-Bannon, and before you ask or wonder a moment longer, ever since Admiral Adama told Brigadier van Hausen and myself what was done to you we had decided that if we did manage to find you that we'd arrange for asylum for you, ma'am. What those beasts did..." she shook her head, although there was a great deal of sympathy in her eyes. "You have my word on that, ma'am."

Gina swallowed, then nodded a bit jerkily and took the offered hand in her own. "I'm surprised..." she began, only to be interrupted by Sharon.

"They want peace, Gina, even if they are prepared for war. They've never tried to enslave us, or destroy us..." Sharon said softly, stepping forward as well and enclosing the joined hands with one of her own. "Give them a chance, Gina..."

--

**_HWS Guerriere_**

**_Nadir Jump Point, Circe Base, January 29th 3050_**

The sleek and lethal looking _Constitution _class destroyer floated in deep space, amongst the pencil-thin hulls of civilian Jumpships and the similarly lethal looking WarShips of the Nadir defense squadron. However, HWS iGuerriere/i looked rather unique, flamboyant even.

_Constitution _class destroyers tended to be independant commands, not attached to any fixed squadrons or fleets, and were usually used for extremely long endurance patrols out where 'civilization' was unknown. As a result, the crews tended to be a bit on the eccentric side, and the captains even more so. Moreover, being outside of the usual fleet structure tended to permit those captains to get away with things that others wouldn't even dare do.

Case in point, _Guerriere_. Now, most captains of _Constitution _class ships tended to confine themselves to large, gaudy and outre pieces of nose art, or big racing stripes, or oddball 'camo' paint schemes that tended not to work. Most did that.

Not Captain James 'Hornblower' Dacre. Nope, not him. He always liked to claim that his only regret in life was not being alive during the Age of Fighting Sail, hence his nickname, bestowed upon him by his classmates in the New Geneval Naval Academy. And so, the quite nautically minded Captain Dacre, fully aware of the delicious irony involved in his being in command of a _Constitution _class destroyer, let alone THIS destroyer, got just slightly carried away.

The hull was pitch black, not 'true' black, but the color of pitch, and the yardworkers had even taken the time to texture the paint to look like pitch-blackened wood. All around the hull, at about the level of the upper row of turrets and casements, a wide white stripe had been painted, with black squares regularly applied in a pattern that managed to catch most of the major mountings. The massive grav decks were the only 'break' in the white line, being painted a uniform black. The very 'top' of the ship was painted a pale brownish color, the hew of a well holystoned wooden deck, while the 'bottom' third of the ship was painted a ruddy copper color, complete with texturing.

In short, Captain Dacre had done his level best to make his ultra-modern destroyer look like an age-old fighting frigate. The effect was... curious, and generally drew quite a few comments and chuckles, which the crew of the destroyer bore up remarkably well. After all, who was it that held the Tactical 'E' for three years running? Who was it that had already destroyed more pirates than many other destroyers ever even sighted? Who was it that was universally considered the hottest crew in the Navy?

So when a delicate diplomatic situation arose, requiring a deft hand and diplomatic skill, the first thing the Admiralty had done was look at the deployment lists. Hoping that they were mistaken and _Guerriere _was somewhere else.

The Colonial _Raptor _piloted by Sharon, with her husband sitting beside her in the ECO seat, and with Kerry, Gina and Lt. Gaeta in back, approached this rakish destroyer, which had, to the discomfort of the Admirals, been the only untasked asset in the Operations Area. Kerry, on the other hand, was quite pleased. After all, Dacre **was **her older cousin, and besides, any crew that would paint their ship like that couldn't have surgically inserted steel rods. So, if she had, by virtue of being the only ComCorps Specialist who could actually speak Colonial well enough to serve as a translator, to come on this mission to attempt a peaceful contact with the Cylons, at least she wasn't going to have to worry about getting yelled at if she didn't kiss butt well enough.

The _Raptor _slipped into the small craft bay and settled down, as a double hatch sealed behind it. Powerful pumps repressurized the bay swiftly, and less than a minute later the pressure indicator went from red to green. Moments later, the airlock hatch swung open and ten Marines in full dress blues swung out, magnetic boots allowing them to 'march' into position in the null gravity. Each was carrying, at perfect 'carry arms', an ancient rifle, the wooden furniture gleaming and the steel shining, as they lined up flanking the hatchway.

Behind the Marines came one rather nattily dressed officer, a Lieutenant by the rank insignia, in full dress uniform. Tucked under his arm was a long glass, the ancient symbol of the Officer of the Deck.

Kerry and the others disembarked from the iRaptor/i, moving carefully in the null-gravity while taking advantage of their own magnetic boots to keep from drifting off. As soon as they were all out of the shuttle, a cry "Atten-HUT" rang out, and all ten Marines simultaneously snapped to attention, slapping their rifles as they brought them to picture perfect 'present arms'. The Lieutenant likewise drew himself up, glass still tucked under his arm.

Kerry was in front, and knowing of her cousins... ways, she had read up on what to do. "Specialist Kerry Sykes-Bannon and party requesting permission to come aboard, Sir." she said, coming to a halt before the Lieutenant and snapping off a salute.

"Permission granted, Ma'am." he replied, returning the salute with one full of panache. "Captains compliments, Ma'am, he requested that I escort yourself and your party to your quarters and would like to meet with you at your earliest convenience."

Kerry's own hand dropped to her side, as she grinned a little and quickly murmured a translation to the rest of the group before responding. "That would be acceptable, Lieutenant." she said, smiling now as she glanced over the Marines.

About twenty minutes later, the Lieutenant led Kerry and the others floating through the ship, heading towards the Captain's office. Compared to the _Galactica _and other Colonial ships, the decks were laid out oddly, each one far smaller than any on board the Colonial ships, and oriented so that the 'floor' was towards the stern of the ship. Which meant that as they were moving 'forward' they were also moving 'up' the ship.

Captain Dacre's office looked like it had been transplanted out of another age, the bulkheads a rich mahogany color, almost glowing and vibrant. The deck was covered in a luxurious carpet, while the desk looked to be a genuine antique, the wood well-preserved and laquered to a golden glow. On the bulkheads hung magnificent nautical themed paintings, tall ships under the press of sail. Fighting ships, merchant ships, all rendered in all their glory in oils and watercolors. As they entered, Dacre himself stood behind the desk, grinning a bit.

"Kerry, welcome aboard!" he said, spoiling the excessive formality a bit. "You need to visit more often." he continued. He wasn't all that much taller than Kerry, topping her by a few inchs at most, and was just as slender.

He was still smiling as he turned his attention to the others. "Welcome aboard _Guerriere _ladies and gentlemen." he said, pausing to allow Kerry to translate. "I am Captain James Dacre. I believe that you all are here to both observe and advise in the event of successful contact with the Cylons, yes?"

Kerry finished the translation, then nudged Sharon slightly, since she was nominally in command of the Colonial contingent. "That is correct, Sir." Sharon replied, smiling slightly. "Sharon Agathon, this is my husband, Lieutenant Karl 'Helo' Agathon." she made the introductions smoothly, "Lieutenant Felix Gaeta, and Ms Gina Inviere."

Dacre nodded to each, smiling as Kerry made the translation, then lifting one eyebrow as the diminutive linguist whispered into his ear "Sharon and Gina are both human form cylons, but not enemies. I'll talk to you later, but behave yourself."

--

**_Zenith Jump Point_**

**_HDU-54.3, January 29th, 3050_**

Space was an empty blackness this far out 'above' the system primary, desolate, empty. This system was rarely visited, apart from pirates, and there were no 'official' installations here.

Indeed, the only object within an AU of the jump point itself wasn't constructed by the Hegemony or any Fringeworld, but was rather the floating menace of the Type II Cylon Basestar.

It wasn't alone for much longer, however, as a pulse of thermal energy burst forth from the point itself, the distinctive pre-emergence signature of a K-F equipped ship.

Aboard the Basestar, the event was almost missed. DRADIS wasn't normally used for mere thermal scans, after all. But the Simon in the control room was massaging the sensors for data, submerging himself into the flow of information...

"We have something..." he said, drawing the attention of the other models. "Thermal spike at the same coordinates... DRADIS contact!"

Now floating in space was the lethal form of the _Constitution _class Destroyer _HWS Guerriere_, sleek and arrogant in it's aggressive design. Moments after it appeared, 4 smaller ships, each less than ten percent the size, deployed from docking collars and took up a formation around their bigger brother as a dozen fighters shot out of launch bays and likewise took up screening positions.

The Basestar and the Destroyer were just under 300 kilometers from each other...


	9. Diplomacy without a Net

_**Cylon Basestar**_

_**HDU-54.3, January 29th, 3050**_

Boomer recovered from the surprise first, even as the bizarre looking ship oriented itself facing the Basestar and launched fighters.

"Launch Raiders, defensive screen only." she said, leaning forward slightly.

"Agreed." came from the others, although Five was noticeably silent. Seconds later, a swarm of scimitar-shaped Mk II Raiders roared out from their launch bays and formed a cloud about the lone Basestar.

"Configuration is different than any Colonial ship, and by God that color scheme is odd..." Leoben said, shaking his head. "Must be Thirteenth Tribe, but are they crazy? A ship made to look like that?"

Five crossed his arms and looked mulish. "They are crazy, all humans are crazy defectives that must be destroyed! And you all are wanting to let them be!"

One of the Three's nodded in agreement with Five, but Boomer and Caprica-Six quickly, almost in unison, snapped back. "We don't know anything about the Thirteenth Tribe of significance and you are already judging them?"

"They are humans! And all humans are defective!" Five snapped back.

The budding argument was cut off, however, as Simon cut in. Submerged as he usually was in the datastreams, he was the first to pick up the signal.

"Getting a wireless signal from the unknown ship..."

A new voice blossomed within the Command Center, a female voice speaking an unidentified language.

"What the frak is she saying?" Caprica-Six said, frustrated at the babble. The tone, however, was commanding, imperative, and not at all panicked at the thought of being face to face with a Cylon Basestar.

--

**_HWS Guerriere_**

Kerry was grinning as she stood next to Captain Dacre holding the microphone, that was linked over to the _Raptor_'s wireless via a rather neatly put together relay.

"I repeat, unknown vessel! Identify yourself immediately!" she barked, doing her best impression of a stern officer.

Releasing the transmit key, she glanced over at her cousin. "I hope you are right about this... could be risky."

"I know, Kerry, but nothing will put them on the defensive faster than to think that we already know who they are. If we did, that would raise all sorts of worries about _how _we knew." he replied. "So you get to play Captain Jane Of The Spaceways."

"And once they realize that we have Colonials with us, not to mention fellow Cylons?"

"Then it will be too late for them to back out without looking foolish." Dacre replied, grinning a bit. "And admit it, the real reason you are annoyed is that you have to wear that monkey suit."

Kerry, after all, was wearing the full Special Mess Dress rig of a ComCorps Specialist on assignment to the Hegemony Navy, complete down to the cutlass on her hip and the stylized laser pistol designed to look like an ancient wheel-lock blackpowder pistol tucked into her belt, matching the Special Mess Dress uniform that, on this quite eccentric ship, was the normal uniform for all the naval officers.

"Yes! It's absolutely ridiculous! I don't care that Admiral Amaris was a wet-navy junkie like you and designed this rig!" Kerry sniffed, aggrieved.

A moment later, she pressed the transmit button again. "Unknown vessel! For the third time, identify yourself immediately!"

--

**_Cylon Basestar_**

"Whoever she is is sounding insistant, and I don't much like the power levels we're picking up from those ships..." Simon said, frowning slightly. "This must be the Thirteenth Tribe..."

"Open a channel then." Caprica-Six said, looking over at Boomer and rolling her eyes.

A moment later, Caprica-Six straightened and spoke, seemingly into thin air, with her hands resting in the basin of the cylon network node.

"I am Caprica, we are the Cylons." she said simply, clearly.

--

**_HWS Guerriere_**

"About time we got an answer" Kerry huffed, glancing to the back of the bridge and sharing a smile with Gina and Sharon, before quickly translating the comment into Caprican.

Still speaking Caprican, the linguist keyed open the mic. "This is _HWS Guerriere_ in service to Her Excellency, Natalie Cameron, by the grace of God Director General of the Terran Hegemony in Exile. Your presence is noted. Send a shuttle containing individuals empowered to engage in diplomatic talks, Caprica of the Cylons, if you desire peaceful contact. Otherwise, depart from this place never to return, or suffer our righteous fury."

Gina didn't look completely happy with the verbiage, but she and the others had all agreed that it was best to keep things on such a footing from the start. Open to peace, but unafraid of war.

--

**_Cylon Basestar_**

"... our righteous fury." came from the speakers, echoed through the datastreams...

"They dare speak to US like that!" snapped the Five. "And claim the grace of God? Those flawed creations?"

Boomer, Cavil, Caprica-Six and Simon all looked annoyed at that, but didn't answer him.

Caprica-Six then spoke, into the communications link. "Very well, despite your impertinent tone and threats, we shall send an envoy to you. Threaten us at your peril, human."

--

**_HWS Guerriere_**

Kerry's translation of the message was met with an exuberant grin on the part of Captain Dacre. "Ah ha! I told you, Kerry! And as soon as a female voice answered I knew I was right." he said, eyes twinkling.

"And how often have you gotten your face slapped, cousin dear?" Kerry said sweetly, to the amusement of the bridge crew, and then translated the exchange into Caprican, bringing smiles to them as well, somewhat strained on the part of Gina.

Dacre mimed taking a blow, waiting until the translation was done. After the chuckling subsided, Kerry keyed the commlink.

"Very well, Cylon. Number two small craft bay is available for your shuttle. Any hostile actions taken will result in immediate reprisal. _Guerriere _clear." and she clicked off the comm, setting it down.

"Captain Dacre, with your permission." Kerry said, eyes twinkling at the formality.

"Granted. Lieutenant Higgs, initiate grav deck spin. Major Parker, have a heavy squad prepared to serve as an honor guard in Bay Two. Remain at General Quarters at this time." Dacre said, seating himself in the central command console on the spacious bridge.

As he spoke, Kerry led the colonials out of the bridge, all of whom were somewhat awkward with the magnetic bootsoles that they were wearing as the navigated through null gravity down to where the grav deck access chamber was located.

"I tell you, first thing, artificial gravity!" Kerry said, grumping as she led the way, a little awkward herself in comparison to the smooth gliding progress of the 'real' spacers. "This zero-g stuff is horrid."

Gina was still looking somewhat strained as they entered the elevator that led to the rotating section, carefully ensuring that they were standing on the marked 'floor'. "Are you sure about this, Kerry? It seems almost threatening." she said softly.

"I am." Kerry replied, turning and smiling at the taller Cylon. "My biggest concern, actually, is that they come on board and jump to the wrong conclusions, thinking that we are an easy target and that they therefore should just try and roll over us. So, we are choreographing this as carefully as we can." she took a breath, as the elevator started moving. "Look, even the Colonials are making conclusions about us that aren't warranted." she continued, drawing looks from everybody else in the elevator. "We don't have your type of jump drive, we don't use your type of wireless, we don't have artificial gravity... therefore we must be behind you technologically. I listened to the debates, I listened in the mess as crewmen thought they were being discrete."

Helo, Sharon and Gaeta all looked slightly sheepish at that, only Gina didn't react.

Kerry smiling a little, eyes twinkling. "But that is because you haven't seen the areas where we do have superior technology. You haven't seen our weaponry in action, nor have you seen our armor. You haven't seen an HPG, nor our medical facilities. I believe Brigadier van Hausen is planning on giving your senior officers and leaders a full guided tour of the Base, complete with demonstrations. But consider this." she said, as the stepped out onto the gravdeck and headed towards the prepared conference room. "The Colonials are worried about our 'lack of tech', and we are on friendly terms with you. Think how the Cylons would react to our perceived lack of tech, considering what they've already done? The only way to 'demonstrate' would be to initiate hostilities, which is just a bit late for sanity to break out. Therefore, we approach things like we are, part showmanship, part flamboyant arrogance, part chill menace, part open hand."

--

"They don't even have artificial gravity." a Cavil grumped as the _Heavy Raider_ settled onto the deck of the bay, the doubled hatchs already closing behind it.

"They do seem rather primitive." the Three agreed, sneering slightly. "Remind me again why we aren't putting these ignorant savages into their place?"

Caprica-Six rolled her eyes. "You know why, and while you were busy feeling superior, I was looking closely at the imagery. Either this ship is armed with dummy weapons, or they don't necesarily need projectiles, since most of the 'guns' didn't have a bore." she said, silencing the others. "Chew on that, Three."

Outside, the hatch sealed and the bay repressurized swiftly. Moments later, a green light came on, and an airlock hissed open, bringing another surprise. Ten hulking armored figures strode into the bay, forming a line facing the hatchway of the_ Heavy Raider_ and holding what were apparantly integrated weapons at an angle across their chests. The biocylons looked at each other, speechless for a moment.

"They have Centurions?" Simon said, sounding just a bit shaken. "This..."

"So they have Centurions, we do not know what status they have." Boomer said, cutting off the incipient argument. "We'll find out soon enough" she continued, triggering the ramp.

Seven biocylons, one of each model, disembarked from the _Heavy Raider_, led by Caprica-Six with Boomer to her right, the others behind the pair of 'heroes'.

One of the... centurions... stepped forward, bringing it's arm mounted weapon up in what appeared to be a salute of some sorts, before a metallic voice was heard. "Follow." before swivelling on it's heel and striding towards the airlock.

Caprica-Six and Boomer glanced at each other, then trailed along. The cylons had their own version of the magnetic boots used in zero-G, and so were able to follow along easily enough.

The corridors were empty of anybody but the seven biocylons and their massive escort, the bulkheads a pale grey color with color coded stripes and markings in an undecipherable script. The first sight of anything else came when they reached what was apparantly an elevator, as a pair of 'centurions' flanked the entrance, both standing still and straight as the party approached, then bringing their own weapons up in an identical salute.

Silence reigned, the Seven not speaking, their escort not making a sound beyond the sounds of metal clanging against the deck with each step. Inside the elevator, the massive 'centurion' pointed at the yellow-striped bulkhead, reorienting itself so that it was 'standing' upon it, joined quickly by the others. The elevator was rather crowded, with seven biocylons and the massive bulk of the 'centurion' inside, but not so tightly as to be uncomfortable.

The movement of the elevator was accompanied by an increasing sensation of 'weight' as they entered the rotating section, until when it stopped it was quite possible to walk without benefit of the boots. The 'centurion' led the Seven through another pale grey corridor, towards a hatch flanked by another pair of 'centurion' guards. Reaching it, their escort said something in an alien language, the voice metallic and artificial sounding, and received a response in the same tongue as the two 'centurion's lifted their weapons in salute and the hatchway smoothly opened.

Caprica-Six and Boomer led the others into the compartment, which was dominated by a long table that appeared to be made from planks of wood pegged together and varnished. The walls were panelled in dark wood, lustrous and rich, while the deck was covered by a plush intricately patterned carpet. Large screens with handpainted symbols and abstract scenery were erected across the rear of the room, dividing the space and concealing whatever was behind them, while on the bulkheads themselves hung framed paintings of ancient sailing and steam ships. Seven comfortable appearing chairs were arranged along one side of the table, while facing them was a single individual. Short, slender, and dressed in an extremely flamboyant uniform that looked totally out of place in space, she didn't bother standing, or even appear to acknowledge their arrival, instead shuffling through a stack of odd four cornered papers while peering at a holographic display projected above the table.

The escorting 'centurion' halted across from her, crashing it's armored arm across it's chest and speaking in that alien tongue.

--

"You didn't tell me that some of them were cute, Kerry" said Major Parker, her normal voice rendered by her suits speakers, and a little judicious adjustment of the microphone settings, into an artificial metallic tone.

The diminutive linguist successfully fought the urge to grin at the battle-armor clad Marine's comment, instead setting the papers aside and sweeping a cool look across the seven cylons before turning her gaze to the Marine.

"I never met any of the boy ones, Major, but I get first pick, since I have to wear this monkey suit." she replied, keeping her voice serious and cool.

"Promises, promises." the Marine replied, then saluted once more, spun on her heel, and exitted the compartment, closing the hatch behind her.

Kerry let the silence stretch out for a moment after the hatch closed, then gestured to the seats facing her. "Be seated, if you care to begin." she said in the Colonial tongue, keeping her voice level and her expression somewhat remote.

"I am Specialist Kerry Sykes-Bannon, Terran Hegemony Communications Corps." she began, then reached to one side and drew out a leather-bound folio, which she slid across the table to Caprica-Six. "This contains my official commission from the Foreign Ministry authorizing me to initiate and conduct these talks in a plenipotentiary capacity." she continued, then went silent again, one eyebrow lifting slightly.

--

The seven biocylons sat down, with Boomer and Caprica-Six directly across from the seated woman.

"I am Caprica." Caprica-Six replied, glancing down at the folio before taking it up and opening it, looking over the rather impressive looking document inside, although she couldn't read a single word of it. After a moment, she passed it over to Boomer. "My colleagues and myself represent the Cylons." she continued, then narrowed her eyes, looking across the table. "I see that the Thirteenth Colony has committed the same sins as the Twelve Colonies, although your centurions have not yet rebelled." her lips quirked slightly as the other cylons at the table stirred a bit.

The woman across from her smirked slightly. "If the _Centurion_s tried to rebel, I'm sure that the _Atlas_'s would be pleased to deal with the foolishness, and I am unfamiliar with 'the same sins as the Twelve Colonies' and likewise with your reference to us as the 'Thirteenth Colony'. I assure you that we alone have far more than thirteen colonies, and if one were to count the entire Inner Sphere, that estimate is at least several orders of magnitude low." she replied, voice cool. "But trading gratuitous swipes will get us nowhere, as amusing as it would be. Your cruiser-class vessel is within space which, as per the Treaty of New Geneva of 2995, is under Hegemony protection. What are your intentions within our protectorate?"

Boomer and Caprica-Six glanced at each other, the others fidgetted a bit... then Boomer spoke up. "We are attempting to track a refugee fleet from the Colonies." she finally said, voice level. "While they are our enemies, we have..." she paused, then a rueful smile "decided we were in error. What is done is done, but in our own zeal to replace them we made a rather serious mistake."

--

Kerry pursed her lips slightly as she listened, but otherwise stayed expressionless and silent, tilting her head as she waited for the Sharon model cylon she'd been told was a 'Number 8' to continue.

"Caprica and I have convinced our fellows to try a different path, we are here in this space in search of the Colonials, so that we can both ensure that they will not be a threat to us, and to hopefully make up for what we had done." Boomer finished after a brief pause, returning the gaze steadily.

Kerry was silent for a moment longer, then nodded. "I see. What was the nature of this 'serious mistake'?" she said finally, eyes scanning over the seven cylons.

"That is immaterial." the Cavil began, only to be cut off by the Simon. "They deserve to know..." he paused, turning his gaze to Kerry. "We destroyed them as best we could, for a child can never truly be grown until the parents are no longer around." he said evenly, to which both the Five and the Three nodded, and both Boomer and Caprica-Six looked even more uncomfortable.

Kerry frowned at that, eyes a bit narrowed, then, without looking down, seperated out several sheets of paper, which she handed across to Caprica Six.

"There are enough copies for all seven of you." Kerry began, then let her eyes sweep over the group, voice chilled slightly. "If you desire peaceful contact, the Hegemony simply requires that you sign and abide by the Ares Conventions. Do so, and we shall be willing to accomodate your past and not hold it against you, so long as no future violations occur. Fail to do so, and we shall have no choice but to... take action." her voice was soft as she leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers. "As a note, it is no more than we require any other newly contacted group, regardless of their origin, history or intentions, to do. If you do decide that your wish for peace is greater than your desire for inflicting destruction and sign, rest assured that while the Hegemony will act to defend any who seek our shelter, we shall do what we can to accomodate and facilitate diplomatic contact between feuding groups."

"It is your choice."

--

Caprica-Six handed out the odd four-cornered sheets of paper to the others, then started reading, her frown quickly replaced by a look of surprise as the provisions, couched in somewhat awkward Caprican that was clearly a translation artifact, registered.

The Cavil and Leoben both finished reading it, and both looked rather surprised, while the Three was frowning and holding the paper like it was about to bite her. Next to Caprica-Six, Boomer was smiling as she set the paper down, glancing over at her fellow 'hero', meanwhile Doral looked mutinous and Simon looked intrigued.

"You people have obviously put much thought into the consequences of warfare." Caprica-Six said, setting her own sheet down, then glancing to her fellows, taking a silent poll.

"Very well... we agree and shall sign." she then said, meeting Kerry's eyes squarely before holding out one hand. The woman across the table nodded and handed across an antique fountain pen. Caprica-Six signed her copy, then handed the pen to Boomer, who signed her own before passing it along. Even the Five and the Three signed, although neither looked particularly happy about it.

"And there... we shall transmit this to all Cylon units." Boomer said softly, looking somewhat... relieved.


	10. War and Peace

_**Circe Base**_

_**January 29th, 3050**_

Shuttles and Dropships had been landing and launching continuously all day and through the night, a constant stream of refugee's coming down from the ragged fleet and heading towards the prepared quarters. While 50 thousand people wasn't all that many, in the grand scheme of things, basic incompatibilities between airlock systems and poor communications, with only a couple linguists available to translate and the best translator off on a diplomatic mission, made things even harder. But it still was getting done.

President Roslin was already in her new quarters in the building set aside for the leadership of the Colonials. While it was much larger than most of the other buildings, the vast majority of it's internal space was taken up with conference rooms, communications facilities and administrative offices. The actual living quarters for the President of the Twelve Colonies was scarcely larger than the other apartments, and the building housed all the members of the Quorum and their staffs as well, making it among the most crowded in the entire temporary settlement.

And the headaches were already multiplying, Sagitarrians refusing medical scans from the Hegemony doctors, Capricans objecting to living in rooms identical to the Sagitarrians... it seemed almost as if nothing had changed, sometimes. All of the pressures and conflicts that the long flight from the Cylons had held in check were starting to bubble back up once more amongst the civilian population... and they'd only been on the ground less than a day.

--

**_Conference Room, HWS Guerriere_**

**_HDU-54.3, January 29th, 3050_**

It was about an hour later, and the seven Cylons and Kerry were still sitting across from each other, with papers strewn across the sanded smooth planks of the anachronistic table.

"So let me get this straight." Kerry said, adjusting her glasses slightly as she reviewed a sheet of notes. "You are insisting that we 'Free the Centurions', turn over any Colonials to you with a pledge that you wish to keep them safe and 'not a threat'... at least some of you are demanding that we disarm and permit you to 'guard' us..." her tone was droll, but her eyes were cold.

"Well, Caprica, I can answer that. First demand is a complete non-sequitor, so I'm going to ignore that one. Second, I can answer simply. No. And third... not only 'No', but 'Hell no'. I trust that is clear?" her voice was now frozen, her eyes turning to lock on the Five who had insisted on that provision. "Now, you also mentioned that there were several Cylons amongst the Colonials and that if we found them you wanted them returned to you. That's also a 'No, not unless they themselves choose to return to you.'"

Caprica was frowning, while Boomer was a bit slumped in her seat. The Five leaned forward, sneering. "We are being completely reasonable, if it weren't for your stubborn insistance on such things." he said, contempt in his voice, before he turned to look at the others. "This is ridiculous, all humans are the same."

Caprica seemed about to answer when Kerry snorted. "Hardly the same. And you are hardly being at all reasonable." she said, then slammed both hands down on the table, rising to her feet and glaring at the Five. "You may have accomplished genocide through treachery and deceit once before. You are quite welcome to try again, but know that we are not only ready for you, but if we fail to reach an acceptable agreement, we will be hunting you." she let that hang in the air for a moment, then smirked, sweeping her eyes over the rest. "You will have no backdoors into our networks, no infiltrators amongst our people..."

The seven biocylons recoiled, looking surprised as none of them had mentioned a word about any of that. "How did you..." Caprica started, only to be interrupted as Kerry pressed a button on the console hidden by the table.

Moments later, there was movement from behind the screens, and Gaeta, Helo, Sharon and Gina stepped to the table and sat down. Flanking Kerry were Gina and Helo, with Sharon sitting next to Helo and Gaeta next to Gina.

The room was silent for a long, pregnant moment...

"We have already made contact with the Colonials. They have already asked for and received sanctuary within our territory. They, like you just have, have signed the Ares Conventions and agreed to abide by them." Kerry said softly, sitting back down and folding her hands together in front of her face. "Your war with them is over, unless you wish to be at war with us. We do not desire war, it is a last resort, not a first option, but we are not afraid of it. We will, of course, be glad to facilitate permanent peace negotiations between you and them." she continued, looking Caprica in the eye, even as the biocylons looked shocked and surprised still.

"For your information, Lt Gaeta, Lt Agathon, Mrs Agathon and Ms Inviere are here as observors for this contact. Lieutenants Gaeta and Agathon are representing, respectively, President Roslin and Admiral Adama, Mrs Agathon is here to give me advice vis-a-vis the Cylons, and Ms Inviere is present as the representative from the Colonial peace movement." Kerry smiled slightly then. "And before you ask, yes, we are quite aware that Mrs Agathon and Ms Inviere are Cylons, a Number 8 and Number 6 respectively."

Silence again reigned for a moment, before Gina leaned over and whispered something into Kerry's ear, which caused the linguist to smother a slight chuckle and whisper back, eyes twinkling a little. Gina sat back, visibly repressing a grin and shaking her head in evident amusement while Kerry looked across at Caprica once more.

"So what shall it be, Caprica? We are willing to live in peace with you. We are willing to go to war with you. The decision, however, is yours."

The Five slammed his own hand on the table and looked furious. "So you have the traitors with you too?" he snarled, voice taut with anger. Caprica looked towards him and frowned, then glanced over at Boomer for a second. Boomer was staring at the other Sharon, who was returning the gaze calmly.

Suddenly the One stood up. "Peace..." he said, not looking particularly pleased. "The war no longer serves a purpose."

Beside him sat the Four, who nodded and also spoke. "Agreed. The Fours vote for peace."

The Three beside him looked angry. "You got to be kidding!" she started, then crossed her arms and leaned back. "Peace once the humans are no more." she said, glaring at Kerry.

The Two was silent for a long time, then nodded. "Peace." he said simply, although a slight smirk was on his face.

The Five was fuming throughout, then erupted. "No! Have you all gone mad? If we let the humans go, they will destroy us!" he said, highly agitated.

Boomer turned slightly. "Sit down, Five, and be silent." she growled, eyes never actually leaving Sharon. "Eights vote for peace, of course."

Caprica relaxed and nodded. "Peace it is..." she said softly, a bit dreamily, her eyes drawn to an empty chair in the corner.

The Three smirked, looking over at the Five and nodding. "There will be no peace." she said flatly.

Suddenly alarms started going off, bright red flashing strobes and a hooting siren.

--

_**Bridge, HWS Guerriere**_

_**HDU-54.3, January 29th, 3050**_

"Incoming strike, 792 bogies, designating Raid One!"

"Disengage gravdeck, signal to Wolfpack to launch their birds!" Dacre snapped, settling into his command station while the bridge around him erupted into activity. A sudden beep momentarily distracted his attention as a display on the armrest lit up, showing a bruised Kerry, her glasses broken and blood trickling down from her nose.

"Engage the fighters only, James, leave the Basestar alone." she said, voice somewhat raspy.

"You serious? Fine fine..." he said, then turned towards the tactical section. "Designate Mother Hen as provisionally non-hostile, weapons free on Raid One." he snapped, then activated an internal comm channel. "Major, what's going on up there?"

--

**_Zenith Jump Point_**

**_HDU-54.3, January 29th, 3050_**

The cloud of _Raider_'s swarmed forward, impelled by their instructions and racing towards the small group of ships. Frantic orders pounded through their links back to the Basestar, but they had been ordered to ignore any further instructions... until this system was swept clear of all non-Cylon ships.

Their targets started manuevering, slightly, the ovoid ships spreading out even more and launching 8 more fighters, all of which started accelerating towards the formation at a paltry rate, in comparison to _Viper_'s. The twelve other fighters which had already been launched likewise started accelerating towards the mass. 20 fighters versus 792...

--

"All Comics, light 'em up!" came the order over the squadron taccom network, as the onrushing _RPT-14-A Raptor_ Aerospace Superiority Fighters swept towards their foes. In each cockpit, switchs were flipped, even as the ultra-sophisticated neurohelmet descended from the models used by the Star League rendered a complete virtual rendering of the universe around each fighter, giving the pilots the ability to 'see' everything around them as if they were the fighter, and not merely in the cockpit. Targetting reticules danced around, each incoming craft tagged with a simple icon. There were so many, however, that it was nearly impossible to tell them apart readily.

"Firing SWARM-S..." came the call, as sophisticated little missiles erupted from the compact class 5 LRM launchers to scream downrange. For now the Arrowlight Type 4 Extended Range Particle Projection Cannon's were silent, at this range they wouldn't yet be all that effective, and would preclude full salvos from the missile launchers due to heat buildup.

--

When the first _Raider _exploded it was a suprise, the range was so great that nothing should have been able to hit them... then more exploded, as shoals of ridiculously small missiles lept from the defending fighters. More _Raider_'s exploded, even as the enemy fighters started to manuever to keep the range open, peeling to the sides.. even as much larger missiles started smoking in from the ovoids.

--

The four _Wolf _class Parasite Escorts spread out, targetting system locking onto the distant swarms of incoming enemy fighters even as the fighter screen started manuevering. Paired AR-10 Maelstrom launchers started cycling, sending _Barracuda _capital missiles screaming downrange like massively oversized SAM's, each missile outmassing entire squadrons of incoming targets. As the range closed, the extended range heavy lasers started tracking individual targets and firing, cycling as rapidly as possible from target to target as they were joined by the more powerful ER PPC's and heavy pulse lasers. Space started to burn as the mass of targets were rapidly attrited

--

Some of the _Raider_'s peeled off to deal with the annoying fighters, even as entire squadrons of them were smashed by gigantic blasts from the incoming fire... and then it got worse still, beams of coherent energy and light started licking through the formations, from both the fighters and the 4 ovoids, and even from the destroyer itself. Powerful, ravening beams of destructive energy that pulsed and flashed, impaling _Raider_'s one by one... and still nothing was in range of attack!

Many had been destroyed, but over 600 _Raider_'s remained, one hundred of them pursuing the fighter's, the rest streaking towards the larger targets. As more of the giant missiles smoked in, the Cylon fighters opened up with their cannons, targetting them and destroying them short of the formation, much to the... satisfaction of the organic intelligences controlling the fighters. But still the flashs of light sparked and winked, chewing through the ranks of _Raider_'s with inhuman precision, the accuracy, range and deadliness far exceeding the serried ranks of cannons that they normally faced.

--

As the fight swirled closer, targetting systems emotionlessly updated the holographic situation display. The bridge of the powerful destroyer quivered as her own weapons went into action at last, pulse lasers, gauss rifles and ER PPC's spitting out death and destruction in a coordinated net of annihilation. The extremely light targets died to the lightest hit, yet were devilishly fast and agile. Luckily the targetting and fire control systems were up to the task, backed up by gunners skilled in their art and brutally effective. In some cases, even the capital class PPC's were brought into play, smashing into the densest remaining clusters of _Raider_'s.

--

"OK, boys and girls, stand and deliver!" came the call, as the flights of _RPT-14-A Raptor_'s finally burned through the last of their SWARM-S bins and turned to face the depleted ranks of pursuing Cylon fighters. Engines blazed, thrusting the 75 ton aerospace fighters at over five g, paltry in comparison to the swiftness displayed by their targets but satisfactory for such a heavy design. Paired Listar Mk II Medium Pulse Lasers now sparked out, sending ruby slivers of deadly energy into the onrushing targets. Paired ER-PPC's supplemented the heavy fire, alternating with the pulse lasers, and as the aerofighters plunged into the melee, the aft-mounted Wilhelm Arms Precision Twinshots joined in, sending pairs of advanced STREAK short-ranged missiles sprinting into unfortunate cylons who strayed into their firing arcs.

--

The defending fighters slashed into range of the _Raider_'s, and the Cylon fighters received another surprise as direct hits seemed to have no effect whatsoever... instead the defenders opened up with nose mounted weapons... that sent smaller versions of the energy pulses into the very teeth of the attacking _Raiders_, each hit cripping or destroying their target. Those Cylon fighters that got behind their far less manueverable opponents received their own shocks, as missiles suddenly erupted into their faces from launchers in the tails of the defenders. Soon the hundred _Raider_'s facing the 20 fighters were only 50, then 20... then none at all.

--

"Stand by missile defense! Switching over to automatic AM control!" came the cry from the tactical section.

The massed anti-fighter arrays that peppered the hull of the swift destroyer were fully engaged as the enemy fighters swarmed around, even as small autocannons tracked and scanned... as missiles started swarming from the _Raider_'s the light machinecannon erupted with streams of 20mm slugs, forming curtains of fire in front of the incoming missile tracks... a wall of steel designed to deal with the mass LRM strikes that were a favorite of the RFR and nearly complete overkill against the far smaller number of incoming threats.

--

The _Raider_'s pressing home the strike on the larger ships were fairing no better, the concentrated defensive fire ripping their formations into shreds and the targets shrugging off everything they could throw at them as if it were insignificant. Unfortunately for the _Raiders_, none had been equipped with nuclear missiles, and even for bio-mechanical brains, watching close in defense systems effortlessly swatting missiles out of space short of their target was... disheartening.

Not having received orders to kamikaze, the _Raider_'s continued trying to strafe their targets after their missiles were exhausted. Their cannons dug into the armor a little, sending little bits of paint and armor flying, but were mostly about as effective as throwing spitballs at a wall. And still they died, as the ravening beams from the swivelling mounts blotted them from space with ruthless precision. Even if one missed, there were three others already firing, and not even the most veteran _Raider_'s were able to evade them all.

Less than ten minutes after the strike began, it ended... all of the _Raider_'s were drifting wrecks or expanding balls of gas and debris, while the targets... were effectively untouched.

--

**_Conference Room, HWS Guerriere_**

**_HDU-54.3, January 29th, 3050_**

The meeting room was in total chaos, without gravity from the rotating grav deck papers, pens and other objects floated in midair, drifting this way and that. The bodies of Three and Five likewise hung in midair, globs of blood spattering the bulkheads from the brief accelerations from the minor manuevers the Destroyer had taken.

Gina was supporting Kerry, who was in even worse shape than she had looked in the comm. Her arm hung limply from her side, her wrist twisted back at an unnatural angle. The two Sharon's were both tending to Helo, who had managed to break an arm when he got slammed into a bulkhead by the Three. Gaeta and the One were trying to chase down errant papers and objects and secure them, while the Two and Four were tending to Kerry, the Four in the process of setting the broken wrist while the Two worked on a gashed open leg.

Immediately after the alarm had started, the Three and the Five had dived across the table, intent on killing those on the other side. Five had actually reached Kerry, but a combination of the sudden loss of gravity and Kerry getting her arms up had kept Five from being able to get an instant kill, and Gina had snapped his neck before he could do the same to the diminutive linguist, Three had gone for Helo, but Sharon had managed to kill her first. The other Cylons had been so surprised that they'd reacted slower, but react they had, and had immediately started proclaiming that they were trying to cancel the orders and had nothing to do with the whole mess, even as they cowered beneath the sudden appearance of the 'centurions'.

Three suits of Marine Battle Armor were now in the room, but none of them had cleared their visors, instead calling for medical assistance through their suit comms and staying back at Kerry's command.

Kerry was still quite concious, and despite her injuries was thinking relatively clearly. After making the call down to the bridge she'd been trying to avoid looking at the ugly expression on the dead Five's face, even as the body drifted about in the null gravity and, at one point, nearly impacted her when iGuerriere/i had manuevered. At that, the linguist had lost her lunch, adding vomit to the detritus in the air.

A minute later and a group of medics and ratings came through the hatch and took over the scene.

"Leave the Cylons alone, the guilty ones are dead." Kerry managed, right as Dacre burst in, looking worried. "I'll be fine, Jimmy..." she continued, her weak voice making the assurance sound just a little false. "Gina and the rest killed the two nutballs before they could really hurt me..." she said, rambling a bit as her cousin took her uninjured hand. The medics were already loading her into the stretcher despite the relative chaos. "Take us home, the Basestar will stay here..." she continued, voice fading as the painkillers the medics had injected started to take hold. "Mission... accomplished."


	11. Well Laid Plans

**_Zenith Jump Point_**

**_Circe Base, January 30th, 3050_**

"Emergence signature! Evaluate as 500k mass signature..."

A burst of thermal radiation erupted from within the area of the Zenith point, then a somewhat weathered looking _Guerriere _burst into existance, the light scarring on the armor mottling the outre paintjob. Several of the iWolf/i-class vessels anchored to the destroyers hull showed more damage, although none of it looked particularly serious.

The com crackled to life. "Circe Base Zenith Control, _HWS Guerriere_ reporting successful completion of contact operation and initial diplomacy. Full report to follow. We are carrying senior representatives of the Cylons as guests. _Wolf G-3 _will be heading in-system conveying the Colonial and Cylon delegations. Requesting medical personnel to meet their shuttle at Circe Base for medevac, non-life threatening."

"Acknowledged _Guerriere, Wolf G-3_ cleared for in-system transit." came the reply, after a brief pause. "Circe Base Medical has been advised of request and will meet shuttle."

--

**_Operations Center_**

**_Circe Base, January 30th, 3050_**

"They need medevac and repairs after a SUCCESSFUL diplomatic mission? What the hell?" van Hausen shook his head, sounding a bit perplexed. "We did remember to define diplomacy as 'peaceful' right?"

"We don't have the full report yet, it's still being decrypted by the Cave." came the reply from the communications station. "Correction... printing it now, Sir."

Van Hausen nodded, tapping one finger absently on his console. "Very well, Lieutenant, thank you." he replied, smiling slightly.

Moments later the sheaf of papers was in his hands, and the towering Brigadier started reading, lips twitching a bit as he did so. As he reached the end of the long report, he seemed to be torn between frowning furiously and laughing. Finally he set the report aside and crooked a finger to the communications officer.

"Get me Colonel Richards please, I'm sure he'll... love this one." he said, eyes twinkling.

A moment later the link was up.

"Turn out the Third Herd to the spaceport, Mike, in full kit, and tell them to keep their visors opaque. In fact, if any of your techies are feeling inventive, have them rig up an LED strip to the visors. Tell the troops that their job is to act like robots, set suit speakers to the most mechanical setting possible etc. When the _Guerriere _shuttle lands, form up an honor guard and escort the delegations to the VIP quarters. If possible I want all the sentries and troops the delegation sees to be in full armor and playing robot." he said, openly grinning now as he held the report and talked into the comlink.

"Hrmmm, not yet, keep the 'mechs in their hangars, let the infantry have the glory for now. How is the planning for the demonstrations and parade coming along? Good... good. Specialist Sykes-Bannon will be in sickbay for a bit, but... long story, Mike, some of the Cylons objected violently to the majorities decision to accept our terms, the dissenters were dealt with but not before they broke some bones. The delegation are all white hats, at least light grey hats, treat 'em with respect... Exactly. She is? How about the Admiral? Oh, good... good, go ahead and inform Adama, he's got his head screwed on straighter and can keep her from going squirrelly. Alright, Mike, I'll leave you to it."

--

**_Wolf G-3_**

**_Inbound, Circe Base, January 30th 3050_**

"... me well, Caprica, very well. Especially in comparison to the Colonials, and I am going to take them up on their offer." Gina said softly, seated across from Caprica-Six in the compartment that the delegations had been assigned for the transit from the jump point.

"Why not return to us?" Caprica said, lifting one eyebrow.

"I can't, not now." Gina said softly, looking over towards the others then back to Caprica. "I... I betrayed somebody I loved and suffered for it, at the hands of those who hated me for what we had done to them, not just for my sin, but yours as well." she said, a bit flatly. "We were wrong, Caprica. You may now be realizing this too, but how many of our sisters agree? How many of our fellow models? How many would gladly go back to the old ways? The easy route of hatred? How long until we poison ourselves once more?"

The silence was a bit awkward, but then Helo spoke softly. "That still doesn't justify what the _Pegasus _crew did to you, Gina."

"Maybe not, but didn't we do worse to them? Didn't we kill their families, murder their worlds, destroy their homes? All because we wanted revenge for acts that the vast majority of our victims were innocent of?" Gina said, equally softly, an undercurrent of bitterness and grief in the depths of her voice. "I... I helped with that..."

"You still didn't deserve that." Helo replied, as Sharon took his hand and smiled faintly as her husband leaned forward. "Two evils don't miraculously make each other justified." he continued, voice firm. "Kerry was right, remember that, the only way we will ever break this cycle of destroying each other will be to simply stop treating each other as objects to be broken at whim." He shifted his cast-encased arm slightly in it's sling, smiling slightly. "You were able to overcome your hatred, despite what they did to you, Gina. Overcome it enough to save a human's life. You were strong enough for that." he paused, leaning back, eyes sweeping over the other Cylons then back to Gina while he squeezed his wife's hand. "Now you have to be strong enough to stop hating yourself too."

Caprica nodded in agreement, sighing a little as she and Boomer exchanged a glance. The other Cylons in the compartment looked uncomfortable, but remained silent, even though the One seemed like he wanted to make a comment, he managed to restrain himself.

Gina looked down at the decksole, then took a deep breath and nodded. "I know..." she said softly, shoulders slumped and voice a bit thick. "I..." before she could say anything else she was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder, startling her a bit as Caprica leaned across.

"We all frakked up." Caprica said, voice soft. "All of us..." she continued, eyes sweeping the others in the compartment. "We Cylons frakked up, you Colonials frakked up, every damn one of us frakked up. I am willing to bet that even the Thirteenth Tribe has frakked up, if not as spectacularly as we all managed to do it."

Helo snorted at that, but nodded as well. "Kerry told us about some of their colossal frak-ups, and honestly, their biggest one is still probably going on. A centuries long series of wars that make anything we did to each other pale in comparison, all sparked by a total frak up."

His wife looked a bit confused at that. "The Hegemony is at war?" she asked, while the others also looked a little startled.

"No, but the Inner Sphere is, remember what she told us about the Succession Wars?" Helo said, drawing 'ahhhs' of comprehension from the others on the 'Colonial' side. "Not this bunch's frak up, but the Thirteenth Tribe has elevated the fine art of frakking up by the numbers to a science that neither of us have ever equalled."

One finally spoke up, leaning forward. "What Succession Wars? And where is this 'Inner Sphere'?"

Sharon glanced over at Helo who nodded, then at Gaeta who also nodded, while Gina still looked somewhat confused, before she took a deep breath. "Well, it went like this..."

--

**_Colonial Refugee Administrative Building_**

**_Circe Base, January 30th 3050_**

A rather dapper looking officer in the khahki's of the Hegemony army stood at the foot of the large conference table. President Roslin, Vice-President Zarek - who had won the Vice Presidential ballot even though the man he had supported had lost the Presidential election, Admiral Adama, Commander Lee Adama, and several others sat at the table itself, while a white clad older man with the insignia of the Hegemony ComCorps stood discretely beside the colonel and translated, his phrasing a bit awkward, but thanks to the notes and data left behind by Kerry much better than she'd been at the same level of familiarization with the language.

"The current plan is that tomorrow at 1000 hours we would initiate transportation for interested parties to the Hendriks facility, we already have the bleachers and viewing area prepared and are preparing a large open-air barbecue as well. At 1200 hours there will be a flyby of Colonial _Viper_'s from both _Galactica _and _Pegasus _followed by them landing at the airfield. At 1230 the mustered crews from both ships, minus those standing watch, will march past the reviewing stand and take their seats. Between 1300 and 1500 hours there will be flyby's of Hegemony aerofighter assets, including the Cameron Star's aerobatics team who will be performing their full display show. At 1500 hours the ground forces will begin their demonstrations, Brigadier van Hausen has requested that we keep the details of that... under wraps for now. Suffice it to say, we hope it will help put to rest any fears that we will not be able to deliver upon our promise of safe haven."

"As you were informed." the colonel looked over at Admiral Adama, who nodded in response. "The Cylon delegation will be present and also observing the demonstrations, they will be at a seperate location and should not be visible to the crowds. On the reviewing stand, the current plan, subject to amendment, is for President Roslin, Vice-President Zarek, Admiral Adama, Colonel Tigh, Brigadier van Hausen and Specialist Sykes-Bannon to observe the activities from the reviewing stand, subject to Specialist Sykes-Bannon medical condition. The report I received indicated she should be able to provide translation services and answer any questions you all may have about the meeting with the Cylon representatives." the officer laid aside a notepad and looked around the room. "That concludes the daily briefing, are there any questions or concerns?"

The room was silent for a moment before Laura Roslin spoke up. "I am still concerned, Colonel Richards." she started, looking over her notes before looking up at the Hegemony officer. "This report gives details about the assault upon Lt. Agathon and Specialist Sykes-Bannon, but seems to... gloss over the damage suffered by your ship. That she was able to return is obvious, but the omission is troubling."

"That is omitted mostly because, quite frankly, while Captain Dacre is a superb commander and one of our best tacticians, he also is somewhat eccentric, especially when it comes to his repair estimates. Judging by past instances, the majority of the requested spacedock time is probably for repairs to his paint rather than anything significant, but we cannot know for certain, and until we do we'd rather not publish any figures." he replied, smiling slightly.

"How much time did he estimate?" came the response, Roslin sounding like a schoolmarm would when a student is trying to evade a question.

"Three weeks, Ma'am." came the response, Colonel Richards not quite rising to the bait, but still smiling a little.

Admiral Adama spoke up then, as Roslin went quiet and seemed satisfied with the answer, an edge of disquiet in her expression. "And casualties, Colonel?"

"No fatalities, aside from the injuries sustained by Specialist Sykes-Bannon and Lieutenant Agathon, two crewmen managed to sustain 'minor contusions' during the battle." replied the colonel, causing Roslin, Zarek and Commander Adama to all look... surprised, while Admiral Adama, who'd already been told that, leaned back in satisfaction.

--

**_Circe Base Spaceport_**

**_January 30th, 3050_**

The heavy delta-winged shuttle swooped down towards the landing field for a nearly perfect landing, despite the slightly gusty winds. Derived from the old _ST-46_, the _ST-75_ was the main personnel shuttle of the Hegemony Navy, capable of carrying 12 passengers in relatively comfortable accomodations for short journeys between ground and orbit. Besides the pilot and co-pilot, there were 11 others on board, the Colonials, the Cylons, Kerry and a naval lieutenant carrying hardcopy dispatchs for the base.

Once on the ground, the shuttle taxied up to the Operations Center for the spaceport, while Dropships, both spheroid and aerodyne, launched and landed from the various runways and pads. The shuttle was a midget in comparison, dwarfed by a passing _Artemis_, shrunk into insignificance by the _Triumph 4_ that taxied behind it. The passengers, apart from Kerry, were all staring out the small windows at the thundering launchs of spheroid _Union_'s and _Excaliber_'s.

"This is the busiest this place has been since it was built." Kerry commented softly, voice just a bit woozy still from the effects of the drugs as she sat near the airlock hatch, arm wrapped in a sturdy cast and bandages visible. "Doesn't get this busy even when exersizes are going on." she continued, chuckling slightly as she shifted a bit. The painkillers were effective but not perfect, after all.

As the shuttle reached the designated parking area and came to a stop, a troop of soldiers in Heavy Infantry Battle Armor filed out of the massive structure, forming ranks with exacting precision. Behind them came a small group of white jumpsuited figures clustered around a pair of gurneys. Kerry muttered slightly to herself, then shook her head when Gina glanced at her, whispering "Later" to the biocylon before speaking up louder. "Looks like our escort is here." she said, glancing over her shoulder at the others in the passenger compartment. "Once the..." a light came on and the hatch started opening. "Never mind." she chuckled, rising to her feet and making a determined effort to look perfectly alert and healthy, despite the cast and bandages. "Shall we?" she said, swaying slightly but managing to keep her feet.

"Let me guess, you are going to be stubborn and try to avoid having to go to the life station?" Helo said, his own arm encased in a lighter cast.

"No, just not going to let those sadists strap me down to that gurney and find every single pothole and bump." Kerry replied, as the others stood up. "Trust me, they look so innocent and nice, but they are fiends at heart." she then grinned a little and headed out the hatch, followed by the others.

"Oh..." she continued, pausing then turning her head slightly. "Stay with me, Gina, I've got a guest room you can stay in tonight, will take a day or so to arrange quarters in the BOQ for you."

Gina looked surprised again, but then nodded. "Alright." she said, after glancing at the two 'actual' Colonials and getting nods from them.

The group resumed disembarking, moving between the two lines of battle armored soldiers who had all managed to scrounge up small LED's that they had hooked to their visors, giving the opaque glass an eerie glow. Kerry resisted breaking out into giggles, while the Colonials, who were in on the joke, kept carefully straight faces. The Cylons, on the other hand, looked somewhat annoyed, but kept silent. The battle armor looked rigid and formal, but, knowing the sorts of troopers who made up the Third Herd, whose insignia graced each of the stiffly erect suits, the comchannels were probably buzzing with wisecracks and witticisms.

As the group reached the building itself, and the vehicles waiting there to convey them to their quarters as well as the group of medics, Kerry made her move, grabbing Gina's arm with her good hand and scooting to one side, even as the white suited medics stepped forward.

Before any of the medical types was even able to open their mouth, Kerry called out in English. "I'm fine, honest, can take my own cast off, give my regards to Dr Aphelli!" as she made tracks, a now thoroughly bemused Gina in tow, towards the door. Unfortunately for her intent, the door opened and van Hausen stepped through, arms crossed across his chest and blocking her.

"Hospital, Kerry." he said, with a perfectly deadpan expression on his face as he filled the doorway to the point where even the skinny linguist couldn't slip past.

"You know what Aphelli will do to me, Tank!" Kerry protested. "Stick me with needles and make me wear one of those aweful hospital gowns. Not. Happening."

"She's not on duty at the hospital at the moment, Kerry." van Hausen replied, a grin cracking his face. "In fact, I believe she is assisting Dr. Cottle with the refugee's at the moment."

"Fine, fine. But I can walk there, no stretcher, no wheelchair, and no sadistic paramedic listing the thousand and one ways I can die from a hangnail." she said, pouting, then switching to Caprican.

"Foiled by the Tank, you are welcome to go with me on this brief sojourn in durance vile, though." she said to Gina, although her attention was on van Hausen.

She had barely gotten the words out when, at a nod from van Hausen, the two medics reached the scene, trundling the gurney in front of them. Kerry spun around and shook her head. "Put that thing away, I am NOT laying down on it." she said, doing her best to look commanding, when van Hausen winked at Gina, stepped forward, and picked Kerry up around the waist, ignoring her sudden squawk, and set her down on the gurney.

"I'm gonna get you for this, Tank!" Kerry said, trying to scoot off of the gurney, but the medics were faster than she was, and in a blink of an eye she found herself strapped down and grumbling. "You Will Pay!" she continued, the capitals evident in her voice. "You are a dead man next time I see you, a dead man!"

Gina, on the other hand, looked torn between laughter and concern, but as the medics started wheeling the still protesting linguist away, she started to follow, after glancing at van Hausen and getting a nod.

--

**_ComCorps Compound_**

**_Circe Base, January 30th 3050_**

Kerry still looked rather annoyed, although Gina seemed to be trending more towards amusement, as she stumped through the hallway of the small building that housed the small ComCorps staff.

"I knew it! Did you see that ridiculous 'dress' they made me wear? I think they always reserve the absolute smallest and thinnest one, then make me walk through the reception area. Every time!"

"Ummm, Kerry? It went down to your ankles, looked like a tent, and was about as heavy as the robes I've seen Oracles wearing." Gina replied, sounding bemused.

"You aren't helping!" Kerry replied, as she unlocked her door with her good hand, her wrist now encased in a smaller pressure cast which in turn was attached to a two centimeter square little block whose only features were a small optical port and a glowing green light. "You are supposed to commiserate and agree with me." she said, although she was now smiling a bit as she opened the door.

"I got Lt Agathon to arrange to have your things brought down and delivered." Kerry now said, sounding more business like as she pointed towards a small set of suitcases. "And looks like they were." she continued, smiling at the taller Cylon before heading towards the kitchen. "And I'm starving, you hungry?"


	12. Celebration Part I

**_Hendricks Training Facility - Parade Ground_**

**_Circe Base, January 31st 3050_**

The crowds were even heavier than had initially been expected, at least for as early in the day as it was. Although it had been planned for bussing to start at 1000, refugee Colonials had started showing up at the gates by 0800, walking from the temporary settlement and following the road and, luckily enough, finding that the gate had already been marked and opened. By the time the first bus set out, an hour early, almost a thousand people had already gathered, and nearly the entire population of the settlement was present by 1030.

The base personnel were scrambling, however, helped by the handy little translation handbooks and the scattered ComCorps linguists who were still arriving almost hourly from throughout the Hegemony. The open pit barbecues were already roaring, and hamburgers, hotdogs, bratwursts and other traditional picnicing foods were being cooked up and distributed. Although the volunteers from the base were quickly overwhelmed, enough Colonials were able to pick up what was going on well enough to help out in distributing out the food, and the parade ground quickly became more and more festive.

It was, in a way, extremely cathartic to finally be able to relax and forget about things for a while. Simply finding themselves safe and secure had, paradoxically, caused greater anxiety and stress, as the pressures of immediate survival faded more mundane worries arose. Long buried anxieties about missing family members, worries about the future, about relationships, about nearly everything had started simmering back up again. But not even those worries, those concerns, were immune to the atmosphere of the parade ground that day.

There were relatively few children in the crowds, but most of those were running around playing amongst the adults, many taking advantage of foam rubber balls being tossed out by some of the base personnel and quickly taking to games of catch and tag. Parents were also at ease, especially as they saw their children being kids for the first time in far too long, and not terrorized miniature adults thrust into a world that they didn't truly understand.

The crowds were thick, but there was one thing missing... not a single Colonial Defense Force uniform was to be seen anywhere.

At 1045, more than an hour before they had intended, a large bus rolled up and President Roslin and the rest of the leadership disembarked, escorted by several Hegemony officers in full dress uniform. It took about a half hour for the party to make it's way through the crowds to the reviewing stand, with all the politicians along taking advantage of the opportunity to alternately 'look important' while gladhanding anybody in reach it was a minor miracle that they made it there in the first place.

Kerry was already at the stand, along with several others, dressed in her ComCorps uniform once more, but still sporting the myomer-enhanced pressure cast on her wrist. Also on the stand, and drawing several startled looks from the Colonial leaders, was Gina, also dressed in a plain ComCorps uniform that looked like it had been rather hastily drawn out of storage and altered to fit.

Roslin made her way over to the pair, as they stood near the shut off microphones, a professional smile on her face for the cameras that didn't come anywhere near her eyes, while Zarek was still busy chatting up supporters and Quorum members.

Before the President could say anything, however, Kerry spoke up. "She signed on this morning, Madam President, and her application was accepted." she said simply. "Allow me to introduce Technician Gina Inviere, Hegemony Communications Corps."

Gina looked a bit nervous, but stepped up beside Kerry, not saying anything, while Roslin's mask slipped for a moment before the smile returned. "I see..." she said, then visibly composed herself with a breath. "I see." she repeated, then extended her hand, although her eyes quite clearly showed that she'd rather be extending a killing blade. "We found the... present aboard iCloud Nine/i." she continued, even as the Cylon took her hand then froze.

Kerry chuckled slightly. "She told me about that before we left, and also where she had gotten it." she said, as Gina completed the handshake and stepped back slightly without saying a word. "I trust that there will be no... issues arising." she continued, and it was Kerry's turn to speak with her eyes, meeting Roslin's steadily.

Roslin didn't reply, instead turning and heading back to the group, while Kerry shook her head slightly. "Adama will bring her around, I'm sure." she said softly to Gina, grinning up at the taller Cylon. "And don't you forget it, they try anything, you are perfectly within your rights to tell them to pound sand. ComCorps is independant, and you are now one of us, clear?"

"I'm still not too sure this was a good idea, Kerry." Gina replied softly, although she was smiling a bit more naturally now. "I mean..."

Kerry cut her off, shaking her head. "Roslin may be President of the Colonies, but that's it, she's not got any authority over us. And since His Nibs agreed with me, you are one of us, not one of them." she said, equally softly, if quite firmly.

--

About a kilometer away from where the Colonials were gathering was one of the base operations buildings, this one often used as an observation platform during manuevers. A broad balcony fronted the building, and the five Cylon representatives, along with several Hegemony officials, were seated around a table. A couple gas barbecues were running nearby, with the same hearty picnic fair as the Colonials were eating, but the mood was far less festive. A young man in a white ComCorps uniform stood stiffly to the side, looking quite serious and earnest as he translated to the best of his ability, but he was definately quite 'wet behind the ears', and to everybody there, even the Cylons, it was a miracle he hadn't managed to embarass himself.

"We were promised substantive discussions, Major." Caprica said, after setting down her half-eaten burger for a moment. "Instead we are apparantly to witness the Colonials celebrating."

Her tone wasn't quite as harsh as the words, and she quickly picked the burger back up and got back to eating the rather unfamiliar yet tasty meal.

Major Piachi was seated across from her, likewise enjoying a meal, yet she too paused to reply. "There is more planned than simply a party, Caprica." she said, "and substantive discussions will commence following the conclusion of todays program. We have tentatively scheduled an initial meeting between yourselves and the Colonial leadership for tomorrow as well."

"Todays 'program'?" Caprica asked, and started to speak more when she was interrupted by a sudden sound.

--

In the midst of the celebration, there was a sudden noise and distraction, drawing eyes up to the sky followed quickly by pointed fingers and scattered yet growing cheers. A massed formation of _Viper_'s swooped down at high speed, roaring over the crowd, only to scatter into a fancy mass break. Reforming at high altitude into a pair of wedge formations, the Colonial fighters, the first line of defense against the Cylon's, piloted by many of their own, flew past again. First the battered, older fighters from _Galactica_, the Mk II's and scattered Mk VII's, led by Starbuck at the point of the wedge. Then the second, all Mk VII's from _Pegasus _trailed behind, each wing drawing enthusiastic cheers and shouts from the crowds as they surged towards the fence seperating the parade ground from the actual tarmac of the base.

On the platform the various politicians looked at each other, but then determinedly joined the cheering and applause, seeking to be seen doing so by the massed cameras of the Colonial press. Meanwhile at the observation platform, the five biocylons were looking startled, while Major Piachi simply grinned slightly.

After the _Viper_'s completed the second, more sedate, flyby, they turned tightly and began to land, each landing precisely on a pre-marked spot in order, until a line of _Viper_'s faced the crowd, each at a slight angle to the fence. As the drives spooled down and cockpits opened, the cheers increased into a pulsing roar from thousands of throats, the pilots doing their best to look straight-faced yet, as they climbed down from their rides, which had served them so well in battle after battle, the sheer emotion of it all seemed to register in shimmering eyes and fierce pride. Even those 'nuggets' who'd never really had any military education at all seemed caught up in it all, and the pilots managed to actually march as a unit behind their respective CAG's to the bleachers already set up and form ranks upon them.

No sooner were they settled then another roar of craft rattled the air, as the massed _Raptor_'s of the fleet flew overhead and came to a hover before rotating and landing behind and between the _Viper_'s, to more cheers and applause. The pilots and EWO's disembarked and likewise formed ranks to join their _Viper _flying comrades. Each pilot and EWO wore a fresh flightsuit, identical to the standard issue but either carefully cleaned and mended, or freshly made from the automated textile manufacturies that were already working overtime to supply the refugee's.

There was a pause of several minutes, before the faint sound of drums started to be heard, coming from somewhere out of sight behind a massive hangar nearby. The sound swelled, the crowds leaning forward and craning their necks to catch a glimpse. There was movement, perhaps, shadows... then right as the massive speaker system set up for the event activated and began a rendition of the Colonial Anthem, the movement became clear. And if the reaction to the pilots had been loud, this was positively volcanic as cheers thundered through the air, drowning out the music despite the power of the audio system.

The massed ranks of the Colonial Fleet personnel marched into the light from the shelter of the hangar where they'd been assembled, formed up into tight ranks and marching in time to the pounding drums. Each man and woman dressed in formal Grey's, boots striking the ferrocrete pavement in perfect unison.

The first formation was somewhat smaller, and led by Commander Lee Adama. The majority of the crew of the Battlestar _Pegasus_, grouped by department, passed in review to the roaring acclaim of the crowds. The only officers and crewmen missing were those who had lost the triad games and were standing a skeleton watch aboard the ship itself.

There was one oddity, however, to the formation. Tight the ranks were, and precise, but that only highlighted the oddity and drew attention to it, and the crowds cheers only grew fiercer at the recognition. For the formations included empty spots, in precise allocation to the position and ranks of the lost. Holes in departments, spaces for the dead and missing...

What had been volcanic, became even more elemental, more driving, as the second formation swung into view. This one, led by Admiral William Adama himself, comprised the crew of the battered old lady of the Colonial Fleet, roused from retirement to wage unceasing battle against the Cylon invaders in defense of the refugee's, battered, beaten, scarred... the crew of the Bucket now marched past. The sound was less, perhaps, the strains of the anthem swelling over it, but what it lacked in sheer, raw volume it made up for, in spades, in intensity and depth.

Like the _Pegasus _crew, the crew of the _Galactica _likewise acknowledged their dead with gaps in the formation. But where every member of the _Pegasus _crew had the bearing of a soldier, many of the _Galactica_'s didn't, not really, for many of them were just teenagers conscripted into the crew, forced by necesity to become men and women when they were, in truth, but boys and girls, and they had risen to the occassion. They weren't as precise as the _Pegasus_, they didn't march as perfectly, but they were every bit as battle-hardened as the rest, and it showed in the fierce pride on their youthful faces.

Their uniforms weren't as crisp, even if they were just as new and clean, insignia not perfectly places, cuffs a bit too ragged, most were civilians turned soldiers, after all, and had never learned how to deal with formal Greys. And too, the officers also evinced a certain... raggedness, in contrast to the precise turnout of the _Pegasus _officers, even Admiral Adama's uniform wasn't perfectly starched. Yet it seemed right, somehow, that very lack of perfection seemed to be, for this moment, in this place, perfect.

Finally the drums stilled, as the last of the _Galactica _crew filed into the bleachers and the top officers mounted the reviewing stand to join the political leadership there.

--

Boomer was crying.

The mood on the observation platform was somewhat tense and strained, the One, the Two and the Four all appearing, to varying degree's, torn between worry and scorn at what they were watching. The Hegemony officials, on the other hand, looked... satisfied, with a tinge of worry whenever they glanced at Boomer.

Boomer was crying.

Caprica had her hands curled up in fists, standing behind Boomer and staring out at the field, occassionally glancing sharply over at the empty bench and glaring at empty air before looking to Boomer then back to the ceremony.

Boomer was crying.

Not sobbing, not sniffling, tears simply flowed down her cheeks as she watched with wet eyes the goings on. Her hands were curled into fists and she stood there, at the railing, rigid and straight. She was almost quivering with emotion, yet the tears kept on flowing, dripping down onto the ferrocrete below.

As the last Colonial soldier took their place, as Roslin started her speech, faint and indistinct at this distance, Boomer still stood, wrapped up in the emotions. Sudden movement at the door drew the attention of the rest of the occupants of the platform, but not Boomer.

Brigadier van Hausen walked out, dressed in the utilitarian combat suit of a Hegemony Mechwarrior, heat exchanger hanging from his belt and the sophisticated neurohelmet in his arm. In the other he was carrying a fairly large package, wrapped in plain brown paper with a twine cord about it. Van Hausen summoned over the translator with a look, even as he crossed towards where Boomer stood with her back to him.

He came to a halt a few feet behind her, then smiled slightly, even as the other Cylons looked at him with varying expressions. A moment later, he cleared his throat, although Boomer was still ignoring him.

"Lieutenant Sharon 'Boomer' Valerii?" he finally said, pronouncing the words in the Colonial fashion, and rewarded with a sudden jump as Boomer turned around swiftly, a look of shock on her face quickly replaced with confusion as van Hausen extended the package. "Admiral Adama requested that I deliver this to you." he continued in English, as the translator rapidly repeated the words in stilted Colonial.

Boomer hesitated for a moment, then took the package, which was quite light and soft for it's size, although the outlines of an eight-sided large envelope could be seen poking at the paper wrapping. The former iRaptor/i pilot still looked confused, but held the package, looking down at it.

"I must be off, Lieutenant." van Hausen then said, managing to say it in Caprican and drawing another startled look, both from Boomer and from the ComCorps translator. "Good day." and with that he nodded to the others on the platform and walked to the door.


	13. Celebration Part II

_**Somewhere...**_

It was pitch black, no light, not even the faintest glimmer from a crack or a hole. There was a figure in the darkness, huddled on the floor. There was nearly no sound, beyond the ragged breathing of the figure, and faint sounds from outside, a thumping sound, faint and indistinct yet somehow nearby, a scratching sound, likewise faint yet close, the sound of sobs, of cries... at least two others, nearby but so far, so far away... The only interruption in the total darkness was almost completely random, as a tiny slot opened and a bit of food and water, enough to survive but not nearly enough to purge hunger and thirst, were let into the blackness. And the room stank with fear, with urine and excrement, as it had never been cleaned since the current occupant had been thrown inside.

**_Hendricks Training Facility - Parade Ground_**

**_Circe Base, January 31st 3050_**

Adama had just finished speaking and the crowd was still applauding, although the sound was fading off as the Admiral stepped back, smiling, to stand beside President Roslin and the others. After a few moments, Kerry stepped forward, managing to actually look rather neat and proper in her ComCorps uniform, and took the podium.

"On behalf of Brigadier van Hausen and the rest of the command staff of Circe Base, I would like to bid you all welcome to the Terran Hegemony in Exile." she began, her command of Caprican quite solid by now. "I've already met many of you, but my name is Kerry Sykes-Bannon, a Specialist within the Hegemony Communications Corps specializing in linguistics and communications technology. Brigadier van Hausen is preparing for his part in todays festivities, and so it falls upon me to act as the announcer here." she grinned as she spoke, and her voice reflected it.

Rather than simply standing at the podium, the diminutive linguist detached the wireless microphone and stepped out from it, not seeming to need any notes to continue.

"Now, I have to make an admission here." she said, looking over the crowd. "We planned on having a bit more time before we had to start our part of the show, but as they say, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry, and so we're having to improvise a bit. Originally, we were supposed to just be getting started, right about now the iViper/i's were supposed to be landing, and all the rest. But, well... they're here." she gestured with her cast-encased hand towards the bleachers where the military personnel were seated. "So now our own pilots are playing catchup. And you should have heard the grumbling about missing their coffee, I tell you! Not that any of your pilots have ever indulged in excessive drinking and smoking cigars and such..." she paused, shading her eyes and picking out a laughing Kara Thrace from the crowd of pilots. "Right Starbuck?" she called out, drawing a roar of laughter from the iGalactica/i crew and pilots, and a shaken fist from Kara. "But..." she paused, glancing up then raising her voice a bit. "I think they've finally gotten the lead out."

Even as she was speaking, a loud roar started to rumble through the air, a deep pulsing snarl of power as a half-dozen gigantic warbirds swept into view from the south. Each massing five thousand tons of advanced alloy and electronics, the six _Artemis _class Assault Dropships of the local defensive squadron roared past. Despite flying fairly high, the massive aerodyne's seemed almost close enough to touch, the recessed muzzles of their massive armament barely visible as they flashed by at speeds that, while slow compared to a _Viper_, were amazing for such huge craft.

"Assault Dropship Squadron 42, led by _HDS Admiral Ustinov_, which was the dropship which picked up the _Raptor _that made initial contact, I might add, under the command of Lieutenant Commander Shelby Richards. The _Artemis _class Assault Dropships are the primary heavy planetary-based aerospace asset and are used for patrol and heavy strike duties by the Hegemony Navy. Capable of sustaining four standard gravities of acceleration, and with a peak thrust of six gravities, they are just as manueverable as many of our larger aerospace fighters, while being exponentially better armed and armored." Kerry spoke from memory, even as the massive dropships swung around in formation in a wide sweeping turn, displaying the smoothly flowing delta wings and crisp lines of the design.

--

Kerry's voice was carried over a recessed speaker system, sounding as crisp and clear on the observation platform as it was from the reviewing stand. The biocylons were mostly watching the flyby, although Boomer was still clutching the unopened package with a white-knuckled grip that threatened to tear the paper that enclosed whatever was inside.

Caprica and the others, however, were looking apprehensive. Something as large as that 'dropship' that was as fast as it was... if it was armed as well as it looked... The One and Two were exchanging nervous glances, the Four was simply staring intently, while Caprica tried to look calm, although her eyes twitched every so often between the display, Boomer, and an empty spot along the rail.

"I take it that we are supposed to be impressed?" Caprica said, managing a cool, calm voice as she glanced over at the Marine major nearby.

"Well, we would hope you would be, although the display is not primarily for your benefit." Piachi replied from where she stood off to the side, giving the five cylons plenty of space.

Even as they spoke, five of the six dropships broke off, returning to the main base, while the lead craft, the _HDS Admiral Ustinov_ instead swooped down for a landing, touching down on the runway of the training area and taxiing to a point just beyond the line of Colonial fighters. While the speechs had been going on, ground crews had set-up rope barriers around the mass of fighters, and once the Dropship came to a halt a similar barrier was setup after the crew disembarked and the craft shut down.

--

"Now, the Navy was rather annoyed that they wouldn't be able to participate with their Warships, mostly since for us a WarShip and atmosphere don't mix well. In fact, the Navy tried to demand that we hold off on this until they could bring a space habitat over, get it set up and tested, ferry you all up there, just so they could show off. You'd think they were a bunch of Mech jockey's or fighter pilots! But the Admirals got overruled. Well, Admirals don't like getting overruled." Kerry said, turning and flashing a grin at Adama who crossed his arms across his chest and tried to look as dignified as possible, although his matching grin somewhat spoiled the image of gravitas and drew a ripple of laughter from the crowd. "So since they got foiled, they retaliated by any means possible. We were going to just have a single display team, from the Army Aerospace Force, but those Admirals are cunning creatures, and they somehow managed to arrange transportation, and I shudder to think of how they pulled it off, to bring their premier display team here instead. From my understanding, the Cameron Star's are still stuck on New Geneva, their transport having 'developed a malfunction', far be it from me to suggest that any Admiral would ever stoop to such underhanded methods just to get their own demonstration team out here first."

Kerry paused, as Adama laughed and shook a finger at her, looking down then smiling, her voice now completely sober. "We've learned how you all have been searching for Earth. Well, our ancestor's came from Earth, and they brought many things with them. Not just technology and culture and such, those are the little things, in many ways. They also brought history with them. There are several items that our ancestors managed to get from Earth all the way out here of immense historical significance, several groups that can trace their lineage back to Earth. Once things have settled down, I'm sure we'll be able to arrange visits to our capital on New Geneva, and especially the Hegemony History Museum. But today, we brought one of those groups here. A unit that can trace it's lineage back to Earth, indeed, can trace it to before the unification of Earth's diverse nations and before the invention of space flight itself."

There was a stir through the crowd at that, as people glanced at each other and leaned forward a bit, listening.

"Now, it's a pretty long story, too long to adequately tell here and now, however the short version is this. Before the formation of the Terran Alliance, indeed, before the formation of the Western Alliance, there was a nation known as the United States of America, centered upon the North American continent of Earth. Up to the point where it became the central founder of the Western Alliance, the United States was the single most powerful nation on the planet, both militarily, economically and socially. Histories of the time record just how great a titan, in relative terms, it was. What is known for certain is fragmentary, and seperating truth from legend from that long ago is difficult. However, in 1946 the aviation department of the United States Navy formed the Naval Flight Exhibition Team, which went on to be known as the Blue Angels. Legend has it that the name came from a nightclub, but while I can't testify to the truth of that, having met my share of pilots I can believe it." she paused and grinned as she turned towards where the pilots were sitting and winked broadly their way, getting a laugh in return. "Regardless, the demonstration team stayed together following the formation of first the Western Alliance and then the Terran Alliance. However, the founding of the Terran Hegemony was... difficult. There were powerful factions within academe and society at the time determined to 'sweep the past clean' as part of their ideological mission. Many of these groups simply wanted to hide past embarassments and failures under the rug, and set their sights on anything 'historical' within the Hegemony."

She paused for a moment, frowning a bit. "The destruction was fairly limited, thankfully, although many priceless objects and records were indeed destroyed. At the height of this groups influence, they managed to arrange for the Blue Angels to be disbanded, however the military pushed back and instead reached back into history and formed the team into an operational squadron instead, while continuing the show schedule. Harassment and disruptions increased, however, and finally many senior military people, members of the Order of the Cincinatti, concluded that unless they acted all would be lost. A number of historical relics were secreted away onto colony dropships, the 'Satan's Kittens' aerospace squadron, the alias for the demonstration team, was assigned to the putative expedition, and they headed out here to the Cluster. Since then, the Blue Angels have served as our navies premier Aerospace Demonstration Squadron."

"Well, they..." and she got interrupted as a sudden whooshing noise followed by a roar of thunder overwhelmed her voice, a blue and gold painted aerospace fighter scorched past at extremely low altitude before pitching sharply up into a vertical climb, engines thundering. A golden '5' was painted on, along with insignia, as the large and powerful fighter pounded into the heavens. As the lone fighter rocketted away, the crowd started cheering, shading their eyes to try and follow it.

Almost before the thunder faded a formation of four identical aerospace fighters swept into view, snugged up in a diamond formation so tight that the airframes were literally inchs apart, and moving as if they were welded together. Even the _Viper _pilots looked impressed, jaws dropping at the sheer raw skill required for such insanely close formation flight. And the diamond wasn't staying straight and level, it was rolling as one body as it passed across the front of the crowd, drawing gasps and shouts.

As the formation turned out of sight a shout came from the crowd, as Kerry had stopped speaking and was simply letting the show unfold before everybodies eyes. Two of the fighters were approaching each other from opposite vectors, moving at extremely high speed straight towards each other. Cries and shouts erupted as they neared, followed by a roar as the two flashed past each other and arced upwards into the sky.

--

The Cylons at the observation tower were just as impressed, if quieter about it, as the aerial ballet continued. The blue and gold painted aerospace fighters, much larger and heavier looking than anything they were used to, yet still manuevering with a grace and elan that even a iViper/i, let alone a iRaider/i, would have envied.

Boomer was no longer just clutching the package, she held it in one hand while she watched the show, smiling more than the others but keeping quiet. Caprica, on the other hand, was barely watching the show, although she looked up now and again at it. One, Two and Four weren't quite as engrossed as Boomer, but were paying more attention than Caprica.

"We are supposed to be impressed with gaudily painted aircraft flying fancy?" One finally said, looking over at Piachi with a slightly scornful expression. "Granted it looks pretty, but _Raider_'s could easily do the same thing, and not look like colossal eyesores in the process."

Piachi gritted her teeth for a moment as the translator rendered the Cylon's words into English, then forced a smile. "Perhaps they can, but remember that you are here out of courtesy, the show is for the Colonials." she replied, voice slightly clipped and harsh.

"Calmly, One, let them have their fun." Caprica said softly, glancing up at the fighters as they made another pass, this time with half of them inverted. "It doesn't change anything at all."

--

Kerry had finally started actually announcing things rather than staying silent, after several messages into her earbud about it, and had the crowd alternately roaring with laughter and cheering.

"Alright, coming up is either the 'We can't figure out which way is up after spinning around so much so we're going to split the difference' manuever, or whatever fancy term the flyboys have for half the formation flying upside down and doing a loop." was one of the better gems, the laughter causing the far more serious military types who didn't understand Colonial to get suspicious.

But after about 30 minutes she got serious again. "Now, on a more somber note." she began, speaking softly although the PA system picked it up and broadcast her words loud enough to hear. "I didn't get a chance to ask any of your pilots if they have a similar tradition to this, but I assume they do." as she spoke the blue and gold painted fighters were nowhere to be seen.

"One of the most poignant tributes that our pilots can give is a particular formation that is flown, usually over a funeral or memorial service. The exact specifics of the formation have varied slightly, from culture to culture and time to time, but the basics are always the same. So now..." she paused, looking up as the six Blue Angel's swung into view in a full delta formation, low and slow and heading straight towards the crowd. "The missing man..." she said even softer, as one of the fighters suddenly accelerated up and away from the rest, leaving a hole in the formation as it swept closer. The five remaining in formation were almost crawling through the sky, as the lone fighter clawed for altitude and vanished into the distance right as the remainder passed overhead, the muted thunder of their powerful fusion thrusters the only sound as the crowd went silent once more.

The silence lasted until the fighters were out of sight, then the normal rustling of a large crowd began once more, muted slightly, but growing again. Kerry waited for a bit, head bowed, then lifted the microphone once more. "And that concludes the demonstration from the Hegemony Navies Blue Angels." she said louder, smiling again as she returned briefly to the podium and checked something there. "Now, fighter pilots get alot of the glory. You know it, I know it, we all know it. They fly fast and hard, and it is to them that the laurels and the honors most often go. But they aren't the only ones up there." She paused and leaned over, grinning. "Right Racetrack? Well, it's time now for the trash haulers to get some respect... in a way I'm sure that every trash hauler in history has wanted. I present the _Thunder Pigs_ of the 42nd Special Support Squadron."

In the distance a whine could be heard, that built in pitch into a roar as a pair of massive craft, obviously designed for hauling massive loads over great distances and not for any particularly fancy manuevering. Yet as the craft closed there were murmurs, for out of the right flank of each of them could be seen dozens of gun barrels, protruding out and down.

"Now, not all cargo is created equal, some is precious, like passengers and such, some is vital, like ammo and spare parts, and some is just, well, trash. But sometimes, some cargo can be... more fun. If you'll all direct your attention to the marked target area to the right." Kerry pointed, as several flares went off, glowing around a circle several hundred yards away from the crowd yet clearly visible despite the distance. Setup in the sand there were about a dozen old trucks and stacked up crates.

The massive aircraft snarled as they passed overhead and went into a pair of tight turns, orbitting around the target area.

"We thought these gunships would be the perfect vehicle to use to demonstrate the range of weapons technology that we have." Kerry continued, pacing about the stand. "First up, something I know you are all familiar with, the autocannon, in this case the Armstrong Weaponworks Light-10 LB-10X autocannon, firing a mix of solid and cannister rounds."

The flanks of the two gunships erupted as the paired LB-10X autocannons started spitting out a hail of fire that cut out after several seconds as two of the trucks started to burn. There were assorted cheers and scattered applause at that, as it was rather spectacular, but not anything they hadn't seen before.

"Next another one I'm sure you are all going to recognize, although you don't use anything quite like it. Green crates are the target, the PowerArms Heavy-20 Long-Range Missile rack is the weapon, firing standard Long Range Missiles." Kerry said, eyes twinkling a little at the somewhat muted reactions so far.

Again fire and thunder erupted from the flanks of the two massive aircraft, only a single salvo each, but forty small missiles screamed through the air and enveloped the targets in fire and debris, pulverizing the crates with precision despite their area effect. Again, the crowds didn't seem too impressed, the applause was more polite, although the military types were looking much more intent as they watched, looking at each other.

Now Kerry was openly grinning as she looked about, catching Admiral Adama's eye and causing him to lean back and cross his arms, shaking his head slightly. "Now, I've not seen anything like this next one amongst you folks..." she said, pausing for a moment at the sudden interest. "So, for the blue and red crates... the PowerArms Brightlance Large Pulse Lasers." she said grandly, drawing a sudden stirring even as the two gunships opened fire.

Stilettos of ravening light stabbed downwards, red bolts pulsing and strobing as the flickered between the orbitting gunships and the crates, annihilating them in pulses of pure murderous fury. Even as the fire subsided, leaving burning wreckage behind, the crowd was rumbling and far more interested, and the military leaders, especially those who'd been in the Colonial Defense Forces for a long period and were aware of the sorts of things being worked on in the labs, looked stunned and shocked.

Kerry chuckled a bit. "Now that got some attention, and we saved the best for last. You all like to call Cylon' Centurions toasters, bulletheads, and other such things. But, you see, they are made of metal, and at least the one in your museum was wonderfully conductive and, most importantly, not grounded." she said. "So now behold, the PowerArms Lightning-2 Extended Range Particle Projection Cannon."

More energy suddenly stabbed out, but rather than the precise and clinical bursts of laser fire, this bolt was massive and irregular, a bolt of raw elemental fury that crashed through the air and annihilated the remaining trucks in actinic fury. Booming thunder split the air as the charged particles created a deafening thunderclap, causing many in the crowd to instinctively cover their ears and flinch back, before a savage snarl seemed to fill the air followed by thunderous applause and cheering, even as the two massive converted cargo aircraft levelled off and started heading away, leaving a circle of devastation behind.

On the stand behind Kerry, the Adama's were looking at each other, while Roslin simply looked a bit pale at the demonstration. It was hard to tell who amongst the Colonial leaders were the most surprised, the civilians or the military...

--

On the observation deck the five cylon's didn't look as surprised, but then again they'd already known how potent the Hegemony's weapons were before they came. Boomer had choked back tears during the 'missing man' flyover, as had Caprica, but the other three hadn't reacted at all, beyond a vaguely condescending expression on the Two's face.

Piachi was talking softly into her comm, then nodded and cleared her throat. "I've been informed that a message from the Director-General has arrived for you." she said, voice level and professional as the translator rendered her words into Caprican. "If you would accompany me to the conference room?"

"Finally." the One said, rolling his eyes as he straightened. "Enough watching pathetic entertainments." Caprica and Boomer both gave him a dirty look, which slid right off, as the five followed the Marine into the building.


	14. Celebration Part III

**_Hendricks Training Facility - Parade Ground_**

**_Circe Base, January 31st 3050_**

Kerry was silent for a moment, as three large tractor-trailor combinations hove into view and came to a halt in front of the reviewing stand. Hegemony soldiers started setting up a small stage as well as a pair of tents, while Kerry took a minute to check over some notes.

"Alright, now we come to the fun part of what we had planned." she said, clipping a small box to the mic and moving towards the stairs. "Normally, if we were doing a normal sort of thing, about now the infantry would be marching past, drums beating and flags flying and looking quite martial. But after seeing the reactions of Racetrack and Skulls to our infantry..." she paused a moment as she hopped down to the ground and out the gate towards the stage. "We realized if we did it the normal way, we'd probably have a riot on our hands. Not to mention the reaction to our BattleMech's."

"Well, we did a little brainstorming, discussed things with Admiral Adama and President Roslin and the Quorum, and came up with a way to do this right. First, we raided your museum." she said, as some of the soldiers manhandled the deactivated Centurion that had once graced the _Galactica_'s museum up onto the stage. "I'm sure you all recognize this thing, right?" An answering growl answered her, and she simply nodded. "I knew you would. Cylon War era Centurion, with all the bells and whistles." she looked at it, as the soldiers set it down next to her. "Ugly thing too. But therein lies the problem, it looks like a humanoid, kinda sorta, only made out of metal, right?"

"So, we had to do some thinking 'How do we make it clear that our infantry are WEARING armor rather than BEING armor.'..." she trailed off, then chuckled slightly. "The solution was obvious, so we asked for volunteers. If the volunteers would come on down?"

On the reviewing platform Vice President Zarek stood up and headed for the steps, while in the stands Kara Thrace likewise stood up and made her way down.

"OK, one volunteer, I had to bribe Starbuck with a box of cigars" Kerry drawled as the two joined her on the platform, causing a laugh as Starbuck shook her fist at her.

"And I don't get any cigars?" Zarek asked, politician enough to ham it up a little for the crowd, and drawing another laugh.

"But you volunteered, Mr Vice President Sir!" Kerry replied, pouting a bit. "And Nuevo Havana cigars are expensive!" Zarek grinned in reply, then he and Starbuck headed into the large tent that had been setup behind the stage.

"Now, I know you got a bunch of Marines with you, and I'm pretty sure they'll all tell you that getting shot is not on their top ten list of things that they want to have happen in battle, but that if they are, they'd vastly prefer it if their body armor turned the bullet, right?" she asked, looking over at the Colonial Marine contingent in the stands and receiving a rather hearty affirmative. "But let's be honest, you can only carry so much before you can no longer move, and armor is pretty heavy. Throughout history it's always been a balancing act between protection and mobility. It's always been quite possible to make a fully bulletproof suit of armor, but moving in it would be just a tad difficult, actually, make that damn near impossible. The main limitation, always, has been human strength and endurance. Now, back in the day before the first Cylon War, your forebears decided on one way around the conundrum, make robots to do the fighting for you. And, well, that didn't work out all that well, did it?"

"We went a different route, took a long time, alot of trial and error, and was helped immeasurably by our having developed some technologies in totally different directions from you. Specifically, the invention of myomer fibers and actuators. We never took the actual soldier out of the equation, we just gave that soldier a suit of armor that augmented his strength and allowed him to carry more mass around, including armor and heavier weaponry. Now, the end result looks pretty similar, but is radically different in concept. So instead of just marching on by, we thought 'hey, if they saw a suit being fitted and put on, they'd know they aren't cylon machines'."

"Now you all heard the announcement, I hope, about our making contact with the Cylons and convincing them to sit down and talk. Well, and keep this between ourselves, no blabbing to the Cylons here, they are already making the same assumption about our infantry, specifically our Marines, as we were afraid you would, and have decided that our Nighthawk Mark 42 suits are actually Centurions of some sort, and they've been pounding the table demanding that we 'free your Centurions' blahh blahh blahh. Our Marines haven't been keeping their faceplates polarized and installed LED's to further the deception, not Marines, never! OK, stop laughing" she said, as the Colonial Marine contingent was indeed laughing rather loudly. "This little demonstration is for your benefit, not theirs, so like I said, no blabbing! We're kinda looking forward to making the Cylons brown their shorts for a change."

As she was speaking, both Zarek and Starbuck exitted the tent, now wearing digital camoflauge patterned jumpsuits. Zarek held a helmet under his arm while Kara didn't, but otherwise they looked like they were dressed identically.

"OK, Kara, you are first up." she said, pointing towards where a small cluster of technicians were standing on the side of the stage. "Now, we cheated a little and already took measurements last night, so despite what a certain individual proposed. Yes, I'm talking about you." she said, although she didn't name any names.

Kerry and Starbuck crossed over to the techs, who had already set out what looked like a massively oversized pair of metal boots with a rather puffy 'suit' spilling out of them. With a bit of effort, Starbuck put the suit on, which made her look remarkably like she had gained about a hundred pounds or so, and settled her feet inside the 'boots'.

"Alright, when fitting a suit we always start with the feet, after all, if we started with the helmet even Brigadier van Hausen, remember him? The giant? Even he wouldn't be able to stay upright, this particular suit weighs 1000 kilograms, not sure how that translates into your terms, but suffice to say it's alot. Now, the puffy stuff that would make a supermodel look fat? That's the interior padding, fully inflated for fitting purposes. Once the suit is fully assembled, just deflating the padding makes it quite easy for the trooper to get in or out of the suit."

"Now, as you can see the techs are starting with the innermost layer of support structure, the parts were already pre-measured for Starbuck, as they have to be for every wearer. There are certain tolerances, for example, I'm too short to wear a standard suit. Now, the inner support structure is designed to bear the weight of the suit, and is also where the coolant, power and control runs are located." as she spoke, the technicians were inserting assemblies of metal and micro-conduit into the 'boots' and connecting them to pre-positioned links on the padding, securing the padding to the frame.

"Next up, the myomer bundles. They're already pre-strung and measured, and insert into the upper and lower braces to hook into the foot and knee actuators. Now notice, already the leg is thicker than those Centurions, including Tin Boy here." she pointed at the museum model. "And we haven't even gotten to the armor plate, this is just the myomer bundles."

Patting Starbuck on the shoulder, even as the techs continued hooking up the multiple myomer bundles, Kerry walked over to a small test bench that had been setup. A single bundle of Myomer, an actuator, and a large weight were setup.

"Now, this is what makes these suits work, myomer. While you were perfecting artificial gravity and those really cool jump drives of yours, we were perfecting this stuff. Think of it as an articial muscle, a proper amount of current and..." she flipped a switch, and the weight was hoisted into the air as the bundle of myomer fibers contracted rapidly. "Just like a real muscle, allows for very precise movement and control, and, speaking for myself, makes for absolutely awesome electric guitar strings. Bundles of these provide 'power' on all battlesuits and BattleMechs."

"So, back to Starbuck, as you see, they finished up stringing the myomer bundles, and are now fastening the outer shell of the lower leg armor into position and sealing it. Battle Armor needs to be environmentally sealed, after all, for operations in space or hostile environments. Next they'll be hooking up the knee structure, actuator and armor."

"While they are doing that, Mr Vice President?" she smiled at Zarek, who nodded. "Now, with this one we cheated too, and he's already taken the _Groundhog _out for a test ride last night to get comfortable with the controls. Amusing as it would be to show you the video of that, under threat of being made to listen to speechs about how naughty I am for the next ten years I stole the tapes." she then grinned over at Zarek, who was shaking his head and chuckling. "Now, since I have the blackmail material, no stepping on my toes when you are driving that thing, OK? Now, by way of explanation, what he's wearing is similar to the coolant suit that Starbuck has on, with a few differences. Most importantly, the coolant system is more robust, with that belt-mounted heat exchanger and pump, plus there's the neurohelmet." Zarek held the helmet up, which looked similar to what a _Viper _pilot would wear, only somewhat bulkier. "Now, an IndustrialMech like the _Groundhog _doesn't absolutely require a neurohelmet, but it's much easier to pilot with one than without. Without getting into all the technical jargon, I'm ComCorps, not a Tech, it's just a better way to keep the Mech balanced and provide extra control input."

"Now, I know alot of you folks are miner's and such, right? Industrial workers? Well, the _Groundhog _is designed for that sort of work, so some of you might, if you want, be learning how to operate them. Think of them as real fancy and capable construction machines." she said, then nodded to Zarek, leaning over and saying something to him with the mic off, to which he nodded and headed towards the largest of the trailers.

"Now, back to Starbuck." Kerry said, as Zarek vanished inside. "As you can see, the knee assemblies are fully fitted as are the upper legs. The techs are working on the lower torso and waist assemblies now, and as you can see the frame is designed to 'split' open at the waist, that's for making it easy to get in and out of the suit without requiring a huge support staff. You can probably also tell that the torso frame is even thicker, proportionally, than the legs. That is for balance reasons, primarily, as the weight of the powerpack and back mounted missiles need to be compensated for, plus it accomodates the life support gear. There's 24 hours of air, a filtered water supply, and even food, although I recommend against eating it... trust me, know that cardboard stuff you folks were suffering with? That stuff is pure ambrosia compared to this so-called 'food paste'."

By now Starbuck was looking rather odd, as the armored suit 'grew' around her from the labors of the techs. As the techs continued working, now installing the upper torso structural and control elements, she stood as still as possible, although she occassionally made a rude gesture towards her fellow pilots at the odd catcall. The outer plates of the suit were gunmetal grey, with the joints being a darker slate grey. On one heavy knee-pad was a somewhat stylized '1' while on the other was a copy of the _Galactica _crest.

"Now, to answer a question I'm sure some of you are asking, no, there aren't any significant differences between male and female versions of the suits, so yes, if you are well endowed it may be a bit uncomfortable." Kerry pointed out, before shutting off her mic and talking with Starbuck for a moment and getting a nod. "OK, they should be connecting up the full breastplate soon... yup, there they go, as well as the backplate and shoulder assembly. Next will be the arms. Now, as they do those you'll probably notice that neither will end in hands. That's normal for this model suit, it's the Nighthawk Mark 43, so on the left hand is what we call a 'battle claw', a three fingered doohickey used for the delicate art of ripping armor plates off of mechs and other fine artistic endeavors. On the right is a modular weapons mount, while an anti-personnel mount is underslung on the left. For this suit there will be a small laser in the modular mount and a support machine-gun in the anti-personnel mount, in addition to the backpack missile launcher. If my name was Lee Adama and I had thought it a great idea to have Starbuck change into the thermal suit on stage with everybody watching, I'd be worried right about now." she and Starbuck both pointed at Lee, who somewhat theatrically threw his hands up in surrender. Moments later Admiral Adama was laughing, pointedly leaning away from Lee, and the crowd was roaring at the byplay.

On the right chest of the suit was a larger version of the _Galactica _crest, while on the left was written 'Captain Kara "Starbuck" Thrace' in black block letters. The armor itself was the same gunmetal grey, with the rotation ring at the waist and the still exposed joints at the shoulders and neck being the darker slate grey.

"Now, we did up the suit in what we figured would be the sorts of colors and markings you'd use, if and when you started using these in your own military. For those of you interested in buying stock, they are made by a consortium led by Lockhead-Boeing and the stock for that consortium is trading at 42 Hegemony Dollars as of the last update I got. That's up one from yesterday, so..." she chuckled then, turning to check on the Tech's progress, while a rumbling sound could be heard from within the parked semi-trailer. "I think the Vice-President just powered up the demonstration _Groundhog_, he should be out shortly."

The techs had finished fitting the upper arm assemblies as well as the shoulderpads, on which were painted the Colonial insignia, and were working on the elbows while Starbuck kept still now. Kerry picked up a small radio and spoke into it, then listened to a reply before nodding. "OK, he'll be a few more minutes. Now that the techs are fitting the arms, you can again see how much thicker they are than those Centurion's arms, which are spindly little things in comparison. Again, that's to accomodate both the full myomer bundles and the human arm. Takes alot of practice to get used to the different bulk, but I'm told that once a trooper gets familiar enough with it that they can do full acrobatics in their suits. I'd never try that, I'd probably hurt myself. Now, some Mech jockeys are able to do some really amazing things with their machines, if you ever see an _Atlas _doing a handstand you'll know what I mean. That's 100 tons of alloy doing a handstand... it's almost as amazing as seeing an _Urbanmech _fly or, for that matter, trying to beat an _Atlas _in a foot race."

"They are almost finished with the base suit, just the lower arms to go, and as you can tell the lower arms actually extend down past Starbuck's hands. As I said, once the assemblies are finished the battleclaw and weapons mounts will be installed, as will the backpack mounted missile and energy pack. Now, the lower arm assemblies, where the cover her hands, include additional controls, specifically for the weaponry as well as an alternate way of selecting menu items from the suits computer system. Normally that is handled by a retinal scanner, but can be done with the finger controls as well."

The radio beeped and Kerry picked it up, listening to the other end then nodded. "Alright, while they finish up the suit, please direct your attention to the ramp on the trailer over there. Looks like there's no obstacles so it shouldn't be too dramatic and... here he comes!"

Out of the trailer came a yellow and orange painted machine, with a prominent cockpit surrounded by crashbars and a plexiglass canopy in which could be clearly seen Tom Zarek, working the controls as he guided the walking machine down the ramp. He actually managed to keep it under a reasonable amount of control as it stumped forward on birdlike legs. There were four 'arms' on the machine, two with oversized 'gripper' claws and two others with far more precise looking manipulators. Exposed actuators and light plating showed rather clearly that this was a civilian type machine, while small clouds of exhaust came from the heavy duty diesal engine that ran it.

"And this is the _Groundhog _IndustrialMech, 25 tons in mass, most often used for construction, mining and agriculture with differing arm assemblies. Now, it's similar to a BattleMech, only it's not intended for combat so it has a nice wide open cockpit and AWRKKKKK!" Zarek was grinning as suddenly one of the more dextrous looking arms, which had slowly swung over the linguist, darted down and picked her up by the collar. "TOM ZAREK PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT!"

Kerry certainly looked indignant, shaking her fist at Zarek in the cockpit. Over the loudspeaker, though, Zarek replied "After you give me the tapes, Kerry." he said, although there was a definate chuckle to his voice. Oddly enough, none of the other THiE personnel seemed to react at all.

"Fine, fine, there will be tapes in your office, NOW PUT ME DOWN!" Kerry said, still shaking her fist even as the arm lowered and deposited her back on the stage, where she did her best to straighten herself out and recover some dignity, before moving to stand right next to Starbuck as the technicians finished hooking up the weapon mounts and battle claw.

The crowd had rustled a bit when the big machine had walked out, even with the visual evidence of one of their own at the controls, but the byplay drew enough laughter that it settled things down before it got out of hand. Seeing that, Kerry gave Zarek a sheltered 'thumbs up' from where the crowd couldn't see her, even as the techs hoisted the bulky missile pack onto the back of Starbuck's battle armor.

"Now where was I before I got interrupted? Oh yeah, the _Groundhog _has a nice open cockpit, we figured that would make it far more obvious that there's a pilot on board, yes? Even if said pilot has a horrendous sense of humor and absolutely no respect!" she glared over at Zarek, hands planting on her hips. "It's a very versatile design, we use this particular version for construction work and, with the right attachments and a skilled operator, just one of these can do all the work required to build an entire single family home, plus it is far safer than traditional methods."

While she spoke, Zarek piloted the IndustrialMech about, pacing up and down the length of the fence and managing to keep it on a straight line, even while he had only one hand on the controls, the other waving to folks in the crowd.

"Now, that's an IndustrialMech, not a BattleMech, there are some significant differences between the two in appearance, for one thing the cockpit isn't as obvious in most cases since you kinda don't want to give the other side an easy target. However, they are fairly spacious still, and many of the designs actually have room for a single passenger which is normally used to pick up pilots who were forced to eject. Starting later this afternoon we'll have signup sheets posted up to sign up for ride-alongs on the base's Battlemech's, it's actually alot of fun so please do sign up. Also, we have about a dozen of our training Mech's here at the base which we'll be making available to any military types who want to try their hand at them, it's about a three hour basic course for piloting and such and the weapons aren't live."

The techs had just finished hooking up the missile pack to Starbuck's suit and had brought out the helmet. "And finally, we've got Starbuck here, almost fully fitted out, once the helmet is on the suit will power up and be operating independantly of external support. For movement and such she'd just be walking as if she weren't wearing the suit, the sensors pick up the pressure from her limbs and send the appropriate signals to the actuators. And there we go..." the helmet was settled in place and secured, the 'neck' wide enough for Starbuck's whole head to easily fit through. On the back of the helmet was another large '1' and the visor was left open.

Kerry switched off the mic again and spoke softly with Starbuck, who nodded and did something, which caused the visor to smoothly slide shut while still remaining clear. Faint green light could be seen on the visor, as the heads up display activated.

"Alright, now take it slow and easy, the balance is different than normal." Kerry said, flipping the mic back on as Starbuck took a somewhat hesitant step, looking a bit awkward. "Just make small movements, nothing dramatic... alright..." Kerry stepped aside as Starbuck manuevered the suit down a ramp at the side of the platform. "Unfortunately Starbuck only has had an hour or so in a simulator, given enough practice it would be much smoother... and guys..." she pointed towards the pilots, who were hollering out catcalls and jokes at Starbuck's waddling progress. "Be nice..."

After a few minutes Starbuck was moving more easily in the suit, enough so that she was able to actually look somewhat more graceful in it as she manuevered it back up onto the stage.

"Now, as I said exitting the suit is pretty easy once it's properly fitted." Kerry said, as Starbuck got back to roughly where she'd been when she started. "First, you initiate the suit shutdown sequence... OK, then see the 'exit suit' icon on the HUD? Select that... and it now should be automatic from here. First the padding deflates, then the suit opens..."

As she spoke, the battlesuit split open at the waist, the chest armor spreading apart like a clamshell and the 'neck' lifting up a couple inches. Starbuck then ducked out of the helmet then rather easily swung out of the suit, using two of the chest structural supports as handles. Meanwhile, Zarek piloted the _Groundhog _back into the trailer, not without several false starts, but managing to get it parked.

"Alright, now I'm gonna ask ya folks, that settle any concerns about these suits and mechs being robots like the Cylons?" Kerry asked loudly, smiling as the crowd reacted with a fairly solid 'yes'. "Remember, folks, you can sign up for Mech rides afterwards, most of the Mechwarriors are good folks even if they can't yet understand your language and vice versa. As a reminder, we've got translation booklets available and we've been adding more phrases to them so feel free to pick up a new one at any time."

--

In the conference room, the five biocylons were reading through the translated text, the taped message being unintelligible to them. The One's and Two's both looked fairly stiff and disapproving, while the Fours simply looked even more curious. Caprica and Boomer, on the other hand, were smiling slightly as they finished reading the transcripts.

"So let me get this straight, completely seperate from any final status or peace talks between us and the Colonials, the Hegemony is demanding that we permit a search-and-rescue expedition back to the former Twelve Colonies to find and recover any survivors?" Caprica said, finger resting on the relevant portion of the transcript. "Why should we make such a concession without gaining anything in return? It seems that most of the Hegemony requirements are pretty one-sided, demanding that we do more and more before they will even substantively talk."

Piachi listened to the translation, and frowned a bit. "Demand is not the phrase the Director-General used, Caprica, we will be sending such an expedition and are formally advising you of such. The question becomes whether the Cylons will support or oppose such an expedition, that is all. We did not engage in a pre-emptive genocidal strike against a civilian population, after all, you did. We are willing to still sit down and talk with you, and even open up peaceful relations with you, but do not think that we like you or will cater to your whims, is that clear?"

The translator hesitated, then started translating, not sounding all that comfortable with it.

One slammed his fist on the table, looking angry. "We are not your inferiors, to be ordered about and treated as such! That is OUR territory now, and any movement into it is with OUR permission or is an act of war." the Two and the Four both nodded, and both Boomer and Caprica looked at each other for a moment and then sighed.

"It looks like you want a war with us, Major" Boomer said softly, fingering the package slightly. "We agreed to come here on the premise that your people wanted peace, yet you, personally, have been acting as if you would like nothing better than to get an excuse to fight."

There was silence for a long moment after the translator finished, Piachi and One glaring at each other before Piachi transferred her glare to Boomer, who simply smiled alightly and leaned back.

"Kerry was the one empowered to act as the official emissary to us, therefore, from this point on she is who we will deal with, not you." Caprica finally said, standing up. "Meanwhile, it is a waste of energy arguing with somebody who just wants to cause offense."

Boomer joined her, and after a moment the others did as well, while Piachi visibly fumed, glowering as she rose. "Very well, if that's how you want it." she said, restraining herself visibly before stalking to the door and leading the group back out to the observation platform.

In the distance, in front of the huge crowd of Colonials, a stage was being dismantled and several semi-trailers were pulling away.


	15. Celebration Part IV

_**Hendricks Training Facility - Parade Ground**_

_**Circe Base, January 31st 3050**_

Kerry was chatting with Admiral Adama and Roslin while waiting for the trailers to depart when her comm link beeped, somewhat to her surprise.

"Yes? What... you are kidding me, please tell me you are... she did WHAT? OK, OK, good... Alright, I'll clear it with Tank. Good, give me five minutes and setup the link." she said, in english, into her comm before taking a deep breath and turning to the Colonial leaders.

Switching to Caprican, she said "Alright, there's been a bit of an emergency and I need to put out a fire, think you two can keep the crowd satisfied for a half hour or so?"

Admiral Adama nodded and took the mic from the linguist, who promptly waved for Gina to accompany her and hurried towards the fence while pulling her comm back out.

"Tank? It's me, look, Piachi somehow managed to royally piss off the Cylons. No, I got the word from the boss about it and he got it from the linguist we brought in from the Uni. Don't have too many details, but the Cylons apparently think she wants to fight them and are reacting to it. OK, I'll handle it! Trust me, I'll be the soul of discretion. Stop laughing. Just give me a half hour, OK?"

She was actually grinning a bit as she and Gina got into a small hovercar and zipped off towards the observation tower at well above the posted base speed limit.

"OK, Gina, looks like Major Iron-Panties managed to piss off all five of the cylons with the delegation." She said as she drove, racing along.

"Alright, why are you bringing me along though?" Gina asked, clutching the armrest and looking quite glad of the seat restraints as they skidded around a corner towards the parking area at the tower's entrance.

"Two reasons, one, visual reminder that, Piachi to the contrary, we are totally cool with working with cylons who aren't out to snap our necks, and two, because of Piachi, if she goes off on a tirade, having somebody along who can easily snap her neck is comforting." Kerry winked at Gina at the last, drawing a chuckle from the Six as they came to a rather abrupt halt, thrusters at full reverse just long enough to stop the hovercar.

The two got out and headed for the entrance, Kerry flashing her ComCorps badge at the guards as they brushed past and headed upstairs.

"Oh, third reason, want you to meet Paul, damn fine linguist for a Technician, gonna make Specialist soon if he keeps it up. You'll be working with him quite a bit, since he's permed to this project." she said, not pausing a moment as she took the steps two at a time to the observation deck.

--

The atmosphere on the observation deck was tense, to say the least. The five cylons stood together at the railing, while Piachi was visibly fuming and the ComCorps technician looked a bit pale. The two Marines standing at the door looked a bit tense, but managed to keep a blank expression as they stood stiffly at attention.

When the door burst open and Kerry stormed through, Gina in tow, the cylons all turned to look, as Piachi looked fit to blow a vein. "What the HELL are you doing here, Specialist Sykes-Bannon" Piachi snapped, looking absolutely furious.

Kerry returned the glare. "Your job, Major." she snapped, then pointedly turned her back and looked at Paul. "Stop translating" she said in Caprican, then crossed over towards the cylons, while Gina made a point of staying between Piachi and Kerry.

Piachi turned a furious shade of red. "Damn you, I will have you up on charges you insubordinate bitch." she snarled, "Van Hausen won't be able to protect you this time."

Kerry turned and stalked over to Piachi, her own temper riled despite her promise to van Hausen, circling around Gina. "In case you forgot, MAJOR Piachi. I was the one accredited as Ambassador to the Cylons, I was the one given the authority to conduct these negotiations as I saw fit under the guidelines and instructions given to ME directly from the Director-General. YOU, MAJOR Piachi, have managed to foul things up to such a degree that you can file your god damned charges and be DAMNED." she snapped back, hands planted on her hips and looking quite ready to explode herself. "Now either shut your mouth or make yourself useful for a change and get the hell out of my way while I fix YOUR screwup."

Piachi spun towards the Marine guards and pointed at Kerry "Place that insubordinate bitch under arrest and take her to the brig immediately." she snapped.

Kerry laughed, as Piachi's comlink suddenly went off, along with the two Marines who'd started moving.

"Major Piachi here..." Piachi started, voice snappy, then suddenly paled and nodded "Yes Ma'am. No Ma'am." a pause, as the two Marines went back to their posts after listening to the messages on their own links, and Kerry just smirked slightly. "Understood, Ma'am. No, Ma'am." she snapped the comlink shut, glared at Kerry, and stalked off of the platform, looking frustrated, furious, and oddly somewhat frightened at the same time.

Once she was gone, Kerry fished her own comlink from her belt and hit a button, lifting it up. "Thank you for that." she started, then blinked and went still herself, paling just a bit. "I... I understand. Won't happen again... no, I'm serious..." she suddenly started grinning, although she still looked pale. "Yes ma'am, I will take care of it." she flipped shut the comlink and returned it to her belt, still a bit pale.

"Hookay, that was unexpected." she breathed, then switched to Colonial.

"Well, Gina, let this be a lesson to you, when one invokes higher authority, it is wise to define just how much 'higher' an authority your invoking before hand, else you may find yourself in the same position I was just in." she said a bit ruefully, taking a deep breath.

"What do you mean by that?" Gina asked, a bit puzzled.

"I asked the boss to setup a dedicated HPG circuit back to the Foreign Ministry in case we had any need for quick decisions, he was listening in and apparently decided to wheel out the heavy artillery... and I forgot that he knew the Director-General when she was still in diapers. Guess who he got on the line, through a dedicated HPG real-time link, to deal with Piachi?" Kerry replied, causing the other translator to look like he was about to pass out.

Gina then smiled, somewhat amused to see the normally completely unflappable Kerry in such a state. "Ahhh, I see. It sounded like a rather heated discussion with the Major." she said, as the watching five cylons looked amongst themselves for the moment.

"OK..." Kerry took another breath, squared her shoulders, and within two steps seemed back to her normal self. "Alright, sorry about the Major, she was the highest ranking officer not involved directly in the activities and we didn't expect she'd be so antagonistic." Kerry said in Colonial, trying for the calm, cool and collected image, despite her lingering shock. "Unfortunately the rest of the senior personnel are either on duty or engaged in the activities being conducted for the Colonials benefit."

Caprica glanced again at the others then stepped forward slightly. "I can understand that, from your statements may we assume that the threats that Major Piachi made are no longer operative?"

"I wasn't fully briefed on just what she said, Caprica, but as we haven't even started substantive talks I can assure you that no threats are on the table at all. From what I understand this was inspired by the Director-General's desire to dispatch a search and rescue expedition to the former Colonial home worlds destroyed in your initial attack, is that correct?"

"It is." Caprica responded simply.

"That is something that will take a minimum of several months to properly organize, from my understanding, thus something that can be readily discussed properly once full negotiations begin." Kerry replied, smiling finally. "However, honesty does impel me to point out that such an expedition will be a central requirement for any final-status determination. While the Hegemony shall not be holding your actions against the Colonies against you, in a legal sense, we still do hope that your regret for them is genuine."

"And permitting such an expedition would help establish that, correct?" Boomer said, sounding somewhat bemused. "Allow me to match honesty with honesty." The One looked like he was about to speak up, but the Two jogged his elbow and shook his head. "We have already abandoned the Twelve Colonies, and there were a fairly large number of surviving Colonials when we left."

--

"Tank? OK, got a change of plans, I'm sending Paul, you know, the new guy? Yeah, sending him back to the Colonials to let them know, I can emcee from here... Can't, she's gone. Yeah, long story... Higher Authority, Tank... no, higher than that. Higher." Kerry took a deep breath before continuing. "No, higher. Yes, you think YOU are surprised?"

--

In his cockpit, van Hausen shook his head in mixed bemusement and surprise. "The Director-General herself? How the hell did... He did? Hold on, got a priority..." he said, as a light on his panel started blinking insistently.

"Dagger Actual." he said simply then paused. "Put her through, Steph, thank you."

"This is Brigadier van Hausen, Ma'am, how may I... Yes Ma'am, I was just informed. It is coming along as expected, no troubles anticipated for it. Yes, Ma'am, I will." he suddenly started chuckling, shaking his head. "I won't ask how you found that out, Ma'am, but yes, that is what I'm thinking of doing. I'll talk with her, hopefully it'll be just the wake-up call she needs. Yes, I know, Ma'am. Those two do have a bit of a history, Ma'am... I can patch in a live feed if you'd like... will do. See you then. Steph? Please contact the Cave and have them patch through a live transmission from the Grounds over the link back to Center." he pressed another button on his console.

"Kerry, you are in trouble now. We'll talk about it later."

--

"I'm always in trouble." Kerry replied, before cutting the line and shaking her head. She was perched on a table, with a clear view of the entire area. The five cylon's were standing still by the railing, while Gina was standing next to Kerry.

"Alright, Paul should have arrived by now..." Kerry said, keying her comm again. After a brief exchange she took a deep breath and fished in her pocket for a small microphone, that she clipped to her collar.

"I apologize for that delay, and thank you Admiral for the short notice assist there." Kerry began, keeping one eye on a small monitor in the corner which had some english text on it. "If you'll all watch to the west, you'll see a single _Triumph BA_ coming in on final approach. The _Triumph BA_ is our main infantry deployment dropship, and has been for the last fifty years. Fully loaded, they are capable of carrying 100 squads of _Nighthawk_'s, for a total of 600."

As she spoke, a massive yet squat looking aerodyne DropShip swung into view, lining up on the runway. Massive landing gear were fully extended as the craft flared out on final approach and landed, braking thrusters thundering as the giant decelerated, finally coming to a halt just beyond the observation tower. After a moment, four giant ramps, two on each side, snapped down with an audible hiss of hydraulics.

From the giant craft marched the Regiment, ten companies of 60 armored figures each, moving as if directed by a singular uniting will. 9 of the companies were of the hulking _Nighthawk Mk 43_ Infantry Battle Armor, 1 of the much lighter _Nighthawk Mk 41_ Power Armor. Each had identical digital patterned camouflage, yet each suit almost shined in the sun, polished to a mirror brightness.

With remarkable swiftness the mass of armored suits fell into formation, 540 Mark 43's and 60 Mark 41's, lined up in arrow-straight lines with exacting geometry. The lighter suits were mostly to the rear of the formation, apart from a single grouping of ten that led the entire group, the Hegemony colors snapping and popping in the breeze. Over the speaker system came the roll of drums, soon joined by a brassy fanfare. Tunes that were old when man first left the confines of the solar system sounded forth, as Kerry remained silent now, letting the music do the talking.

On the observation platform, the five cylons were alternating looking at the mass of what they still thought of as centurions and at each other. The One actually looked slightly pale as the host of 'centurions' marched past, armored feet slamming into the ferrocrete pavement with precise rhythm.

Down at the Parade Ground, the reaction was more enthusiastic. The Colonial refugee's knew full well that those weren't 'centurions' marching their way, and the stirring music, unfamiliar as it was, still had the power to thrill and excite. As the marching mass of battle-armored soldiers neared cheers started going up.

As the ranks of armored infantry passed the reviewing stand, the banners carried at the head of the formation mostly dipped, all but the Hegemony flag, which remained tall and straight, while every helmet snapped to the right, accompanied by the crash of armored limbs slamming into armored chests as they rendered a proper salute, the battle armored equivalent of the rifle salute performed with built in weaponry. The salutes were held, as Admiral Adama stood at the center of the platform with President Roslin at his side, holding an answering salute of his own as the formation passed in review to the martial strains.

Back at the observation deck, Boomer and Caprica shared a glance, lips quirking for a moment before they stepped back slightly and looked over at Kerry. Meanwhile, the One and Two were both glowering, and the Four was mostly watching the massive DropShip as it taxied towards an opening hangar. After a moment, Boomer leaned close to Caprica and whispered something, getting a nod in return.

Watching, Kerry suppressed a grin and whispered to Gina "I think those two are on to us, was wondering how quickly they'd figure it out."

Gina whispered back. "True, and you were right, they haven't told the others."

Outside, the column of marching battle armor infantry finished passing the review stand, the flags snapping back upright as the salutes were dropped. The infantry formation continued passing by before wheeling to the side and disappearing behind a fairly tall hill.

The music faded slightly, but was still playing as Kerry keyed her mic open once more. "Now, impressive as the infantry are, and as vital as they are to the operations of the army, they are but one leg of the triad of our ground forces. If you listen carefully you can probably hear the next leg already, I understand that they are trying for as good an entrance as they can get. Now, this is an area that you folks have never really developed, although the iLandram/i is a pretty solid armored personnel carrier. But we have been using armored fighting vehicles for over a thousand years. Quite honestly, most of our tankers have a bit of a chip on their shoulder. The infantry has the _Nighthawk_'s to play with, the Mechwarriors have Mech's, yet somebody from a thousand years ago can look at the most modern tank and know exactly what it is, and probably have a good grasp of what it can do too. So getting to show off to folks who've never really seen tanks before... well, they don't get that opportunity very often. Make that ever."

As she spoke, a rumbling noise started being heard, with metallic clanks and thuds, coming from the large cleared area in front of the Colonial refugee's. A cloud of dust was visible, expanding until it looked almost like a brown fog bank. As she finished, movement could be seen, then suddenly dozens of predatory low-slung vehicles roared over the lip of the ridge line that had concealed their approach, flying through the air briefly before slamming into the ground on their tracks. Long barrels snouted out from massively armored turrets at near maximum elevation, rooster tails of dirt spouted up from behind the tracks, as 75 ton _Paladin _main battle tanks roared forward at over 60 kilometers per hour. In each turret stood the vehicle commander, bracing themselves against the movements, while around the massive tanks swirled far lighter hovertanks, 30 ton _Crusader_'s, roaring around at over twice the speed of the heavies, crossing back and forth across the track of the heavies. Behind the massive tanks loomed even larger tanks, the 100 ton _Knight_'s, slower than even the heavies, but with the exact same turret and a hull that was far larger.

About a hundred yards from the fence, the tanks skidded to a halt in what was obviously a planned maneuver, swiftly forming into a tight mass of heavy armor drawn up in tight ranks, the precision of placement rather amazing considering the pell mell charge that the massive vehicles had engaged in.

As the last tank came to a halt, armored silo's on the rear decks snapped open and smoke and fire erupted, missiles firing straight up and bursting in mid air in brilliant flashes, even against the daytime sky, as illumination rockets were mass volleyed from every tube, filling the air with thunder and light. From the 'smaller' 75 ton tanks came only 20 rockets per salvo, but from their larger cousins erupted three times as many, in a seemingly inexhaustible stream.

As the fiery display ended, the Colonial crowd erupted, surprising as the display had been, somewhat frightening as it had been, it had been equally exhilarating and impressive, and loud cheers sounded forth. The tank commanders stood proud as peacocks in their mounts as the pivoted in place and arced around to parade past the reviewing stand, heading towards the observation tower, with each commander holding a crisp hand salute as they passed. One of each type of tank pealed off from the formation and headed towards the flight line, coming to a halt in the shadow of _HDS Admiral Ustinov_, the crews debarking and assisting the ground crews with erecting the rope fencing about the vehicles.

By the time the armored column rumbled out of sight, the air was finally clearing from the dust and smoke of their entrance and pyrotechnics display, while the music swelled and pulsed then faded away.

"And finally..." Kerry began, as suddenly more rockets launched from concealed positions, arcing out over the training grounds and leaving a massive smoke screen, obscuring anything that may have been behind it. "the moment I know Tank has been waiting for, and he's not going to let a bunch of tankers make a better entrance than HE will."

The Colonials roared with laughter, none more so than the _Galactica _crew who had mostly met the base commander.

"All flippancy aside. Ever since their invention the BattleMech has been the undisputed King of the Battlefield, the rulers of all they surveyed. Aerospace fighters challenge their dominance, but as powerful as they are, even the mightiest of fighters cannot take and hold ground. WarShips have bigger guns, tanks have heavier armor, infantry is more agile. But no one, nowhere, has ever developed a platform capable of consistently defeating the King of Battle in his chosen ground. I've talked about them, Tank has talked about them, we've described them... now you will get to see the reality."


	16. Celebration Finale

**_Hendricks Training Facility - Parade Ground_**

**_Circe Base, January 31st 3050_**

The rockets continued firing for several more seconds, until the bank of smoke was so thick that it almost appeared to be solid. The hidden launchers fell silent, finally, then thirty seconds later the scream of powerful aerospace drives could be heard, a pair of fighters streaked across the sky and dropped tumbling silver cannisters which promptly burst into lines of liquid fire which lasted for just moments before a sudden sheet of flames flared up from a prepared trench.

Meanwhile, Kerry went silent, as music started to again play over the loudspeakers. Soft, quiet, yet with a certain level of anticipation and menace... then suddenly drums began to thunder and the cats-howl of bagpipes began to play, cutting across the pounding percussion before, just before a beat, the music went abruptly silent, a disquieting sense of incompleteness...

The silence stretched out, as the crowd grew restless, shifting about, and on the platform the Cylon's likewise were glancing about, slightly unnerved. Then, suddenly, shattering the silence, came a single clear bell tone from the speakers, deep and dark as if a mighty bell were being tolled. Twelve times it rang out, then faded away.

But almost before the last echoes had passed into silence, the ground itself seemed to rumble and shake, an immense vibration more felt than heard. Then moments later another rumble, almost as if a small earthquake were shaking the earth. Beyond the wall of fire and the thick bank of smoke nothing could be made out, as a third, and a fourth rumble were felt.

The effect was somewhat magnified by how high the observation tower was, causing concerned glances from not just the five Cylon representatives but also Gina towards Kerry, who was shaking her head slightly and looking bemused, even as the rumbling thunder continued it's regular pulse, intensifying slowly.

The speakers came back to life, then, as the rumbling continued, soft music, oddly at variance with the thunderous vibrations that set the very buildings to shaking, the very ground becoming a mighty drum of sorts.

The white smoke from the rockets boiled and seethed in eddies and currents, and now shapes could be dimly seen through the flickering flames, as the music faded away once more...

Then the music suddenly changed, becoming darker even as it intensified, as the shapes drew closer through the mist, still obscured by the crackling flames of the fire line. then the thunder of steps was joined with a thunder of deep bass voices through the speaker system, chanting in a tongue that couldn't be understood, yet which was dark, heavy... awful in the truest, most ancient, sense of the term. Kerry grinned at the music, watching the reactions of the Cylons as the ancient strains of Mozart's Requiem - Sequenza 'Dies Irae' thundered forth.

Even as the massed voices started the chant, the shapes resolved themselves as they passed through the fire line unharmed. Titanic shapes, silhouetted against the flames. In the lead, a very terrifying figure, towering over all the others. Black, with white and gold highlights, the death's head visage of a mighty _Atlas _loomed out of the flames. The majority of the huge mech was the deep, ebon black, drinking in the light, while the death's head was all in bone white. Many of the armored plates were rimmed in thin gold, barely visible at this distance mostly from how much more reflective the gold bits were compared to the black. Braces of lasers were on each forearm, closed missile silo's in the chest joined by a massive autocannon. On the side of the death's head was a satellite antenna, canted slightly upwards.

Flanking the leader were three scarcely less imposing machines, none looking particularly humanoid despite having arms and propelled by legs, but rather flattened, sharp-edged and lethal, a trio of _King Crab_'s. Unlike the massive _Atlas_, these Mech's were painted in standard camouflage colors, making them far less distinctive in appearance, although still perfectly visible silhouetted as they were against the roaring flames. Gauss rifles, their barrels framed by the pincer claws of the arms, PPC's, lasers... the trio looked even more heavily armed than the leader.

Lined up behind the four mighty assault Mech's were 8 identical humanoid titans, each blocky and squared off, moving with a stolid obstinacy in perfect time to their leaders and each other. Eight _Awesome _assault Mech's... 32 extended range PPC's... 640 tons of alloy, weapons, and brutal power. They too were painted in standard camouflage, matching the patterns of the _King Crab_'s. Each thunderous step sending up small clouds of dust and dirt from the impacts, the brutal appearance more than matched the thunderous chant of voices. The hulking figures had no heads, but rather visible cockpits at the front of the torso with heavily polarized windows.

The latin chant continued, swelling in volume even as the music soared, thundering voices filling the air as the titans advanced, and still more appeared through the sheet of flames. Eight massive Battlemech's nearly as imposing as the _Awesome_'s of the assault company, yet with a somewhat slicker appearance, the Hegemony's version of that ultimate in unkillable mechs, the infamous _Thug_, strode along, spaced out evenly across a line of 16 smaller cousins to the _King Crab_, the Terran Hegemony's standard trooper mech, the lethal _Crab_. While they were all painted with the same pattern, now there were some differences, as half of the lumbering _Thug_'s and predatory _Crab_'s had large blue panels at the 'shoulder', while the other half had red panels in the same location. Like their bigger cousins, the _Crab_'s didn't look at all humanoid, surprisingly slender bird-like legs supporting a well-sloped body with clawed arms supporting the main armament, a pair of extended range large lasers framed by the claws, while two more lasers were placed in the torso, one at the centerline and a smaller one in a turret like structure. Large whip antenna festooned the rear of the body, swaying with each step.

There were still shapes obscured behind the roaring wall of fire when the music trailed off and the advance halted on the final note, each of the visible mech's standing perfectly still. The flames were starting to subside as the fuel was consumed, and the wind was starting to blow the smoke to the side.

Suddenly, the _Atlas _in the lead moved, lifting up one massive fist and slamming it down into the ground, even as a thunderous clap sounded from the speakers and the earth heaved and shook. On the platform Kerry just rolled her eyes while the Cylons looked surprised and shocked, going rather pale, while the Colonials in the distance were clearly gaping in wonder at the display of power.

Gina glanced over at Kerry, who leaned in and whispered "Underground explosive detonation, there are artificial caverns used for underground weapons testing near here and a big enough blast timed right.." she gestured at the scene.

While Kerry was speaking, a swarm of 600 black painted _Nighthawk Mk 43_ battle armor suits erupted seemingly out of the ground on small jets of fire, concealed trenches having hidden them from view until now. At the same time, two dozen smaller mechs, none looking all that humanoid with the massive barrel of an extended range large laser jutting over and almost comically undersized arms slung beneath large canopies, soared over the heads of the larger mechs on pillars of flame from their leg and torso mounted jump jets, landing in front of the main line.

Even as the _Hussar-T'_s, the standard scout mech of the Hegemony and one that had been massively updated and upgraded, landed, new music started playing. More orchestral, rather melodic at first, the music was much faster paced, as the light mechs started racing in a crossing pattern, even as the battle armor formed a line across the field. Kerry was tapping her foot to the beat, still shaking her head slightly as the orchestral version of One-Winged Angel started to play, the rapid movements and jumps of the battle armor and light mechs in time to the tune. As a mixed choir joined the music, it almost seemed as if the singers voices controlled the movements of the mechs, as each time a particular word was sung the light mech's fired their jump jets.

The lines of the more massive Mech's resumed moving forward, the thunder of their synchronized steps again shaking things up, strengthening slightly as they closed then falling off as the formation split. The assault company in the lead continuing forward, while the two line companies sped up and started to curl around the formation's flanks. The movements seemed chaotic, wild, with no purpose, yet the order was there, beneath the chaos, controlling it to the rhythm and beat of the music. Every fifth beat the ground shook, as somehow, some way, every mech managed to either land from a jump or take a step simultaneously. The tiny figures of the battle armored infantry darted amongst the giants, seemingly heedless of their own safety, their own jump jets allowing them to add their own flair to the wildness in the field. More rockets erupted amongst and above the formation, fireworks this time, lending flashes of colored light and noise to the happenings.

By the time the mech formation reached the Colonials, they were again formed up into precise ranks, the scout mechs landing in two lines flanking the leading _Atlas _while the rest were formed up in a single long line. The _Atlas _was precisely opposite the reviewing stand, centering the formation. The music came to an end right as the last steps were made, and the mass of Battlemech's were perfectly still for a moment, then the _Atlas _snapped a picture perfect salute.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the 645th Hegemony Guards Battlemech Regiment and 923rd Armored Infantry Regiment." Kerry said simply. "Brigadier Edward van Hausen commanding." there was a faint note in her voice that caused Gina to glance over at the linguist and grin, catching it. "One _Atlas_, three _King Crab_'s and eight _Awesome_'s in the Headquarters and Assault Company, eight _Thug_'s and sixteen _Crab_'s in the two Line Company's, and twenty-four _Hussar T_'s of the two Scout Companies. Combined, three thousand two hundred and eighty tons of Battlemech's. And you haven't seen everything yet..." Kerry trailed off, glancing at some notes on her PDA and a blinking message. "Those of you in the military know that every outfit has it's oddballs and misfits. If I were standing over there I'd be pointing at you, Kara." the roar of laughter could be heard even without any enhancement. "Luckily I'm over here and safe. But there's one more company, and rather than forcing them into the Regiment mold and making them strut their stuff with the rest, Tank gave the Special Services Company leave to come up with their own entrance. Now, fair warning, they wouldn't tell me what they were planning, and knowing them..." She trailed off, then shook her head. "And here they come... please welcome the... waitasecond..."

A single object could be seen in the sky, riding a plume of fire as it descended. At first it looked like one of the spheroid dropships used extensively by the Hegemony, but as it got closer it became quite obvious that it was far, far smaller... and had legs... and arms... and a rifle-like gun in one of the arms.

A heavily modified _Urbanmech_, one that could justly claim to be, of all things, an _Urbanmech LAM_ came to a landing right between the reviewing stand and van Hausen's _Atlas _and promptly started making shooing motions to the much larger mechs. Not seeming at all concerned that it was far less than half the size of the _Atlas_. The dumpy little mech actually looked rather ridiculous, as the modifications to fit in the heavy thrusters needed for flight made it even more awkward on the ground than 'traditional' _Urbanmech_'s, causing it to waddle about in comic fashion as it shooed off the big mechs to the sides. To the amusement of many, the bigger mech's complied, although van Hausen did lightly rap the head of the impertinent little trashcan on legs with one finger before moving to the side, clearing the view of the training field that had been used for the main Mech demonstration. By now the flames had burned themselves out and the smoke fully dissipated.

Kerry, meanwhile, was shaking her head and looking somewhat peeved, drawing a somewhat concerned look from Gina. After a moment, though, she shook herself and smiled, still shaking her head. "My brother is going to be the death of me I tell you." she said, by way of explanation.

"That is not part of the Special Services Company, actually, that is my brat of a brother. Please feel free to laugh at him." she said instead into the mic, a somewhat impish grin suddenly curling her lips. At that another roar of laughter erupted, causing the squat little walking trashcan to turn around and shake it's fist at the observation tower.

"Don't shake your fist at me, Peter!" she admonished, hopping up on the railing, supported by Gina and making a rather rude gesture at the _Urbanmech_, which responded by extending the one-fingered salute in response.

Unfortunately for Peter, however, he'd been so focused on his sister that he didn't notice one minor detail. Brigadier van Hausen's _Atlas _stepping up behind him. A sudden squawking noise came from the little mech's speakers as the hulking giant behind it gripped it with both hands and seemingly effortlessly lifted it off the ground. A moment later, a stream of liquid poured out of a port on the _Urbanmech_'s torso, a partial coolant flush, but to the crowd, which continued roaring with laughter, it almost looked as if the little mech was wetting itself, especially when the massive _Atlas _seemed to recoil slightly before turning it's death's head visage towards the crowd then pivoting around, holding the smaller mech away from itself.

The little trashcan's legs were pumping wildly in the air, and the two arms, a feature of this model of civil-defense _Urbanmech_, flailed about as the little mech was carried off to one side. The _Atlas _turned again, then set the mech down, before immediately firmly placing one hand on the dome like head. A decision vindicated moments later when the _Urbie _tried firing it's thrusters, only to be held down by the _Atlas_. The fact that the little mech had fired it's thrusters at the absolute lowest power settings wasn't apparent, however, but it did look rather impressive.

At the observation tower Kerry was back to muttering as she hopped down off the railing. "He's supposed to still be at school, what the hell is that brat doing here?" she asked, rhetorically perhaps, of Gina who simply shrugged slightly. Kerry chuckled a little then keyed her com.

"Did you know he was... you did? And you didn't tell me? Huh? No way, mister. Fine, fine." she shut it off, still shaking her head.

"Tank knew he was here and didn't tell me." she said in Caprican, drawing a look from the five Cylons and Gina.

Flipping back on her mic, she started up again. "Sorry about that, folks, apparently my little brother's militia unit was deployed here and the little brat didn't bother letting me know. Where was I... oh yes, the Special Services Company should actually be... there they are!"

As she spoke, twelve more Mech's of differing configurations crested a ridge line, standing evenly spaced along it, as a purely choral work, O Fortuna from iCarmen Burina/i, started playing over the speakers.

There were three different types of mech's, all painted mostly in the same digital camouflage pattern as the other mech's, in groups of four. The first four, from the right, were also the largest in appearance, sporting massive drum-like projections rather than arms typical of the _Artillery Longbow _Arrow-IV bombardment mech's, massive platforms capable of raining down death and destruction from extreme range, but sadly lacking in close-in defenses. Aside from the dual Arrow-IV launchers, they only had a pair of medium pulse lasers for self-defense. On the face of the drum launchers was an extremely intricate knot pattern that trailed back over the bodies of the launchers, lending a somewhat exotic flair to the mech's.

Next to them came a quartet of _Archer IIH_'s, which looked much slimmer than their larger cousins, with two prominent missile racks in the shoulders, heavy battle fists with braces of lasers on the wrists, and a prominent set of antenna above the recessed cockpit. Below the cockpit, to the front, was a large sensor cluster, with a pair of missile tubes slung beneath it. Oddly enough, each of the _Archer IIH_'s had a rather prominent profile of a rabbit painted on the sides of the missile launchers, with writing scrawled beneath that was illegible at the distance.

Finally to the left were four _Riflemen IIH_ anti-aircraft mech's, paired extended range large lasers and cluster-firing autocannons comprising the 'arms', looking more like a walking quad-cannon turret than anything else. A pair of smaller lasers were in the torso, flanking the polarized canopy of the cockpit. A large winglike antenna array was at the very top of the mech, holding the specialized targetting and tracking sensors. Each barrel, be it autocannon or laser, had a flame pattern painted at the end, bright splashs of color, while the upper antenna was a polished silver in color, reflecting the light brilliantly. Each of them also seemed to shimmer slightly, an effect caused by the millions of tiny little prisms embedded in the paint. As they had to go fully active with their sensors to accomplish their mission, evidently the pilots didn't see much value in their camouflage paint.

As the soft voices of the chorus continued chanting in latin, the twelve mech's stayed still on the ridge, until as the voices swelled once more into the concluding verses a sudden eruption of over a thousand rockets burst from behind them, arching into the sky and detonating simultaneously in a massive burst of light and crackling thunder. At that, the company came down off of the ridge, the _Archer IIH_'s in the lead, followed by the _Artillery Longbow's_ with the _Riflemen IIH's_ in the rear, forming a double column. They moved relatively slowly, but precisely, matching all of their paces to the slowest mech, until they reached where the rest of the regiment was again formed up, albeit with van Hausen's _Atlas _still having one armored hand planted right on top of the flying _Urbanmech_'s dome like head.

"And that's the entirety of the 645th, 6 companies strong." Kerry said softly into the mic, grinning a bit as the crowd started cheering. "They serve as Circe Base's local garrison, with their commander pulling double duty as Base commander as well. Now, this wasn't supposed to be over for another couple hours, but like I said at the beginning, the best laid plans. Security should be... yup, there they go, please feel free to take a look around the flight line displays, and don't forget the sign up sheets for ride-alongs with the Mech jockeys." she concluded, then clicked off the mic as the crowd started splitting up, most heading to the flight line to gawk, while others headed elsewhere.

"Well, that went fairly well." she finally said, leaning back against the railing. "Sorry about Piachi." she continued, looking over at the Cylons, who mostly still looked just a bit pale from the demonstration. "Didn't realize she'd been inflicted on you folks until things blew up. But no riots, stampedes or heart attacks, I'm chalking this one up as a win." she continued, fanning herself lightly as she straightened back up. "Paul should be back here shortly, we've not planned on holding any substantive talks today, some of those who will be participating are still a couple hours out returning from patrol. Once he's here, he'll be glad to see to your needs." she smiled slightly.


	17. Accidents

_**Colonial Refugee Housing**_

_**Circe Base, February 1st 3050**_

Sometimes the difference between a prank and a ritual is just context. Throughout history, sailors have engaged in 'rituals' that seemed to have as their sole purpose embarrassing some members of the crew for the amusement of the rest, on the proposition that the next time around those being subject to said ritual would get to inflict it on the next crop of neophytes. Whenever a ship crossed the equator, for example, crews concocted ceremonies to induct those who were crossing for the first time. When submarine sailors received their qualification badges, there were likewise ceremonies and traditions associated with the event.

Even the Terran Hegemony in Exile had a number of rituals, handed down over the centuries, associated with various events. So to did the Colonial Defense Forces, especially the wilder elements in the pilot community. Such rituals helped build esprit de'corps, bonding the units together through shared experiences and producing more effective fighting forces.

On the other hand, sometimes it pays to read the labels... or what is intended as a fun and lighthearted ritual prank can turn into something far worse.

It was early morning, the last hour before dawn and already the earliest rising birds were sleepily chirping as the horizon started to lighten. The lights that illuminated the streets and squares of the refugee housing area still burned brightly, throwing spills of light across the ground and casting up sharp edged shadows.

In the sector reserved for the _Galactica _pilots, there was a rather pretty little park at the center of the four large buildings that served as barracks and recreation rooms, and in the center of that little park was a rather large and imposing tree that shaded the entire square. And, decorating the trunk of the tree, was a silvery figure... a tape wrapped mummy of a certain ComCorps translator who'd earned it with her teasing of the _Galactica _CAG the day before.

Kerry had spent a quite uncomfortable night indeed, wrapped up from just below her neck to her toes in silvery tape, with her ComCorps jumpsuit and her underwear folded neatly on a plastic tarp beneath her. Starbuck has managed to convince Sharon and Gina to play along to get Kerry out here, and in the hilarity that followed Kerry wound up all wrapped up in a neat little package while the _Galactica _pilots got a little drunk... well make that a lot drunk. Kerry had gone along with it, even when Starbuck had given her an out, laughing at the silliness of it all and pointing out that since none of the _Galactica _crew had ever made a KF jump, as opposed to their own jump drive, that she'd be returning the favor eventually.

But that was six hours ago. Gina was still outside, keeping an eye on Kerry, but the others had crashed hours earlier, leaving the linguist wrapped up against the trunk of the tree, with the bark rubbing against her whenever she tried to move, but even so she'd still managed to nod off and get a little sleep herself.

Finally dawn broke, and Starbuck came out of one of the buildings, along with Racetrack, carrying some scissors. Kerry was still sleeping as the pair crossed over, joined by Gina who rose from the bench where she'd been sitting all night.

"WAKE UP!" Starbuck suddenly yelled, right into Kerry's ear, causing the linguist to jump, as much as the tape would let her, instantly awake.

"Whaaaaa..." she said, sounding rather bleary, blinking a bit at the light streaming down onto them. "Ohhh..."

"Yup, oh. Let's get you cut down before the bigwigs wake up." Starbuck said, chuckling a little as she stepped around the tree and started cutting the tape.

Unfortunately, the tape was very difficult to cut, but she was finally able to get a slice down before gripping it to start pulling it away from the tree... only to find that she couldn't, it was stuck fast.

"What the frack?" she said, pulling harder, drawing concerned looks from the others.

"Hey, be careful back there!" Kerry called out, as she was tugged back against the rough bark, quite uncomfortable even through the thin layer of tape.

"I'm trying, this fracking tape isn't cooperating..." she yanked even harder, and instead of the tape releasing, a chunk of bark came off, still stuck to the tape. "WHAT THE FRACK!"

Gina looked rather worried, as she joined Starbuck and looked at what happened. "I didn't think duct tape would stick quite that well, Starbuck..." the blond cylon said, as the others also clustered around.

Kerry, meanwhile, started cursing. "Where'd you get this tape, Starbuck? This is duct tape, right?"

"Yeah, it's duct tape, there were a bunch of rolls left in one of the closets when we got here." Starbuck replied, shrugging and looking confused.

"Ummm... are you sure it said duct tape on the package?" Kerry replied, worry in her voice.

"I can't read your language, and there wasn't any packaging anyways, looked like it was left over from when the place was built." came the response, which elicited another round of curses.

"Frack... that isn't duct tape, Starbuck, it's construction tape... this is bad... this is very bad..." Kerry actually was starting to sound panicked. "Don't tug at it anymore... and call Tank..."

--

"NO! I am NOT going to there!" Kerry said, panic still in her voice as she shook her head violently.

Van Hausen stood in front of her, with several of his officers with him, while the _Galactica _pilots stood around as well, avoiding looking at the rather annoyed looking Admiral Adama. Kerry had been cut loose of the tree no worse for wear, but was still wrapped up in the tape. So now she was upright mainly because Gina was holding her up.

"Yes, you are." he said flatly, then turned and surveyed the crowd. One finger jabbed out, pointing to a female with a red cross brassard on her arm. "You, Sergeant, will go with her to the hospital and oversee the procedure." he began, the switched to the somewhat broken Caprican he'd managed to pick up. "You, you, you and you." his finger jabbed out again, pointing at Gina, Starbuck, Racetrack and Sharon. "Go with, in sight keep, all times. No let doctors alone with. Clear?" he said, glancing over at Adama who nodded slightly.

Kerry was still shaking her head as Gina picked her up off her feet. "Tank, NO!" she repeated, almost pleading.

"Sorry, Kerry, I checked on my way here and the only way that they are getting that stuff off of you without killing you in the process requires the facilities at the base hospital." he said, stepping forward and cupping the linguists chin lightly. "And I'll... leave instructions, I'll be there with you as much as I can." he continued then nodded to Gina, who planted Kerry down on the stretcher before moving to help pick it up.

Van Hausen then flipped open his com unit, eyes stony as the group boarded the ambulance and moved off. "Doctor Aphelli? This is van Hausen. Kerry is on her way now. You got my instructions... no, I am not going to argue with you, Doctor, you will follow my orders or I swear to God I will come there and personally rip your god damn arm off and strangle you with it, is that clear? Only female personnel, and the party I sent with her is to be with her at all times, CLEAR. I didn't hear you... I don't give a damn who you are going to complain to, Doctor, you are under my command here and you don't get to pick and choose what orders you follow. Good." he snapped the com shut, then took a deep breath as one of the junior linguists finally arrived.

"Alright, this complicates things. Paul? You'll be taking over for Kerry for the meeting." he said, smiling at the surprised young man. "Although I understand she's gotten the language program written and uploaded?"

"Yes sir,she has. Sir, if you want, we can arrange simultaneous translations via ear buds now, with..." he spoke quickly, almost tripping over the words, and sounding nervous.

"Ahhh, good, good, but still, we might need you for clarification and such, and ComCorps should be present. Translate now for me, please." van Hausen replied, setting one hand on Paul's shoulder.

"Admiral, I apologize for commandeering your people like that, but I assure you that there are good reasons for it." he said, facing Adama, then waiting for Paul to finish the translation.

Admiral Adama nodded in response. "I think I know what those reasons are, Brigadier." he replied, then smiled slightly. "How will this affect the conference?"

"It's still on, Sir, I got confirmation from Paul here that Kerry was able to finish up the translation program and get it loaded, so that will be covered. And while Kerry is still the accredited ambassador to the Cylons, we do have Sector Command present who has the authority to speak for the Hegemony in such things." van Hausen replied, gesturing slightly towards the staff car he'd arrived in.

"Sector Command?" Adama asked, falling in beside van Hausen as they walked to the waiting vehicle.

"Well, I think you'll get along with him, Sir, and he should be more than capable of handling the Cylons." came the response. "But first, we need to make sure that there's no more construction tape left behind, or we could have even greater problems."

--

_Base Hospital_

_Circe Base, February 1st 3050_

The operating theater was large and impressive. Sophisticated overpressure systems and static screens maintained a perfectly sterile environment in the actual operating arena while the observation seats had a clear view of what was going on. Even so a light mist of antiseptic spray lingered in the air, as for such a delicate operation no chances were taken.

Over her loud objections Kerry had been fully sedated, and was thankfully oblivious to what was going on as the doctors worked slowly and carefully. All four of the Colonials and Cylons watching were rather uncomfortable, all had been involved in wrapping Kerry up like that, thinking it was just normal duct tape, and watching the totally unintended consequences was... extremely difficult for them, especially for Starbuck, who's idea it had been in the first place.

Construction tape was deadly stuff, capable of effectively fusing objects together with extremely sophisticated 'smart' glues. It took exactly an hour for the adhesive to actually set to more than a 'tack', but once it did only a highly caustic solvent could cause the adhesive to release, and that solvent would eat through skin even faster than it did the adhesive. So another, much more gruesome appearing, procedure was required.

She was laid out on a highly articulated table, as robotic arms guided by the surgeon and her assistants literally cut her own skin off, the extreme outer layer of the epidermis being peeled away like peeling a grape. As the advanced hypersonic cutters worked, the surgical assistants moved behind them, covering the exposed flensed flesh with synthetic temporary skin while cloning vats bubbled away, producing cloned skin to replace that which was being cut away. IV's were setup, feeding both drugs and nutrients to the unconscious Kerry while she was effectively being flayed alive.

The doctors had been at it for about an hour, and progress was very slow, primarily to spare the patient from too much system stress. About a quarter of the tape had been removed, mostly in the most delicate areas to take advantage of the earlier, more effective, stages of heavy anesthesia. Now they were working on less sensitive areas and making faster progress, while still taking great care.

In all, it was estimated that it would take over three hours for the operation to complete, and several days for the cloned skin to be fully grafted on. Several days, as far as anybody who knew Kerry were concerned, of sheer hell for the linguist. She had, after all, a very good reason to hate and fear hospitals.

--

_Refugee Housing_

_Circe Base, February 1st 3050_

Teams of Colonial Marines were moving through the refugee housing complex, searching even the empty units for rolls of construction tape. Each had a single sheet of paper with full translations of the writing on the packaging, but also had instructions that anything that looked like duct tape was to be gathered up.

Before the teams had moved out, Admiral Adama and President Roslin had called an emergency press conference which had been transmitted throughout the housing area, describing the dangers of any left behind construction tape. Already over three dozen rolls had been found, and the buildings that they were in duly noted.

--

_Command Center_

_Circe Base, February 1st 3050_

"OK, looks like... goddammit, all the buildings that had left behind supplies were ones that our own attached personnel put up, not the contractors..." van Hausen was pacing, holding the reports in one hand and avoiding crumpling them through sheer force of will. "Peters, schedule a meeting with the engineering detachment commander tomorrow morning, and tell him that I want answers as to how he allowed this fiasco to happen and why I shouldn't relieve his sorry ass for cause."

He was about to continue in the same vein when he got interrupted. One of the junior lieutenants serving as one of his aides entered the command center with a notepad under her arm, crossed over to him, and fired off a salute.

"Sir, you wanted to be notified when the Colonial and Cylon delegations arrived." she said, impressively formal.

"Yes I did, thank you." van Hausen replied, as he returned the salute and turned, intending to place the reports down.

"Sir, the Colonial and Cylon delegations have arrived." the lieutenant continued, causing the hulking Brigadier to pause, then, despite his obvious foul mood, chuckle slightly.

"Lieutenant, your new mission for the day is to find something under the regs that permits me to bust you for managing to insert a pseudo-quote from that movie while in the line of duty." he said, voice level as he turned and gave her a patented van Hausen glare, known to melt most junior officers into small puddles.

The lieutenant, on the other hand, seemed made of sterner stuff and declined to disintegrate on the spot, instead answering with a crisp "Yes, Sir."

"Very well, go notify the General that they've arrived, and... a piece of advice, don't try the same stunt on him. Now get." he made a shooing motion, casually returning her salute and heading towards his office without so much as a backwards glance.

--

_Command Center - Main Briefing and Conference Room_

_Circe Base, February 1st 3050_

The atmosphere in the rather grand conference room was thick enough to cut with a knife, and hardly cordial at all. On one side of the large table sat President Roslin, Vice-President Zarek, Admiral Adama, Commander Adama and Colonel Tigh. On the opposite sat One, Two, Four, Caprica and Boomer. And neither side looked particularly friendly at the moment. Guards in full dress uniform were stationed around the periphery of the room, along with white-suited ComCorps personnel and several aides.

The door cycled open once more, admitting van Hausen and his senior staff, including Major Piachi, who took their places at the foot of the table, nodding politely to those already present. The head of the table, however, was empty, although a single chair was sitting there.

The Hegemony officers had barely sat down, when the door swished open again. One of the officers was watching the door and popped to his feet. "ATTEN-HUT!" he called out, causing all of the Hegemony personnel in the room to rise to their feet and brace to attention, an almost palpable air of pure respect pouring from the crispness of the movement.

An old looking man stepped through the door, accompanied by a pair of Naval officers. His eyes were a piercing ice blue, vital and alive despite his evident age. He moved with a crisp precision still as he walked around to the head of the table. Unlike the other Hegemony officers present, regardless of branch, his uniform was much different, lacking all of the features of the standard ones. For one thing, it was mostly olive drab, not a bit camouflaged, and superbly tailored to fit perfectly. At his side was a holstered ivory-handled revolver, while multiple medals decorated his chest. He was wearing a highly polished helmet with a cluster of four silver stars affixed on the front, matching the rank insignia on his shoulders.

On one breast pocket was a plain strip of olive drab 'tape', with a name printed boldly upon it in all capital letters, with smaller lettering beneath it still legible.

**Patton**

**QBC-15CA**

"As you were." he growled, although his voice was surprisingly high pitched. The Hegemony officers took their seats, while his eyes scanned over the Colonial and Cylon delegations.

"Due to Specialist Sykes-Bannon being unable to attend this session, I shall be conducting these talks in her place." he said in nearly perfect Caprican, not bothering to introduce himself. "Allow me to formally welcome both delegations to Hegemony space. We are hopeful that these talks shall prove fruitful in leading towards a just peace between your two peoples."

He didn't bother sitting, leaving the chair alone while he started pacing slightly, holding a riding crop in one hand and tapping it against his leg. "I am an old soldier, ladies and gentlemen, not a diplomat, therefore I am not going to waste everybodies time with bullshit." he paused, sweeping his eyes across everybody. "The position of the Terran Hegemony in Exile is straightforward and simple. This war is over, so long as you are within our sphere. We will not tolerate continued hostilities from either of you. Get that through your head, now, and do not waste my time."

At that Roslin spoke up, interrupting him "So we are supposed to just forget that they massacred our civilians?" he voice somewhat hostile. "That they chased us, attempted to annihilate us?"

The One sneered, before any other reply could be made "Just like we are supposed to forget you enslaving us? Not that we expect any group that openly keeps their own version of us enslaved to actually live up to anything."

Roslin was gathering herself to respond when Patton snapped. "We expect neither, but this is not grievance theater time." he snarled. "And, 'One' was it? Less talking, more listening, or do you make a habit of eating your own foot?" Caprica and Boomer both glanced at each other and smiled, causing the Two and Four to look confused, while the One just surged to his feet.

"This is all a joke, we saw your centurions, General. We know full well that you are enslaving them just like humans always do." he snapped, an ugly expression on his face.

"So you are implying that we in the Hegemony are enslaving artificial intelligences?" came the response, deceptively mild, before with one step Patton was right in One's face. "I find that quite personally insulting, you puling idiot. You wouldn't know slavery if it stepped up behind you and hit you over the head with a sock full of shit, you hypocritical piece of shit."

"I don't care how insulting you find the truth, human" One snarled in response, glaring up at the taller figure and not backing down at all, while behind him Caprica and Boomer again exchanged glances.

At that Patton laughed and pointed at the name tape. "Truth?" he said, then barked another laugh, contempt laced deep into the tone. "Allow me to fully introduce myself, 'One', I am General George Patton of the Terran Hegemony in Exile Armed Forces, Sector Commander for Sector 6, and I also" he smirked, pausing for a second. "am _HWS George Patton_ QBC-15. For your general fund of military knowledge, One, that makes me a CASPAR M-11B Artificial Intelligence Controlled WarShip, currently utilizing a cybernetic remote avatar." he concluded, eyes boring into the stunned Cylon's.

A pin drop would have been a thunderclap in the stunned silence from both the Colonial and Cylon delegations.


	18. Negotiations and Awakenings

_**Command Center - Main Briefing and Conference Room**_

_**Circe Base, February 1st 3050**_

The silence stretched out for a long moment, as the cybernetic avatar of the AI named Patton and One stared each other down again. Finally One snorted and looked mulish. It wasn't that he was actively stupid, far from it, it was more that One tended to be rather stubborn and certain of his course, and unwilling to deviate from it.

"Oh how lovely, a house slave to these humans who thinks he's important." he sneered.

Patton just chuckled and shook his head, a bemused expression on his face as he turned away. "I guess it's true, then, what they say about chimpanzee's and AI programming." he said, drawing a slight chuckle from van Hausen and the other Hegemony personnel, as he sat down and turned his attention to the still stunned looking Colonials. "I do hope that I will not have to worry about raging mobs with pitchforks and torches?" he said, his grin turning more genuine. "I can assure you that no non-infected Hegemony AI has yet to betray our flesh-and-blood brother's and sisters or deliberately bring harm to them, and we have significant defenses against a repeat of the Quisling Worm incident." he continued, in a more serious vein. "Under the laws of the Hegemony, we are citizens and equals to humans, neither their master's nor their slaves."

Zarek was the first to recover his wits about himself and speak, although Adama seemed rather more composed than the rest of the Colonials. "So Article 24 of your Constitution is not the theoretical construct we had assumed, but rather operative?" he said, lifting one eyebrow and getting a nod in return.

"That is correct, Mr Vice-President, Article 24 was written almost a full century before full AI's were developed, thus it is written in the manner it is written, but still possesses the full force of law." Patton replied. "Now, there are understandable restrictions imposed upon military AI's over and above those imposed on humans, mostly at our own insistence through the Joint Oversight Committee."

Adama stirred slightly, glancing over at the still standing One then back at Patton. "Care to explain your comment about AI's and these 'chimpanzee's', whatever they are?" he said, voice carefully neutral.

Patton chuckled a bit, glancing over at One himself. "Second question first, actually, or the explanation will make no sense. A chimpanzee is a rather clever little monkey, thought to now be extinct back on Earth but they thrive on several terrestrial nature preserves and in our zoo's. It's said that if you take a million chimpanzee's, give them a million typewriters, and leave them at it for a million years, they'll eventually manage to write the works of Shakespeare, one of our great historical playwrights and poets. Likewise, if you take a million chimpanzee's, with a million keyboards, and give them a million years, they'll eventually code an AI." he lightly gestured towards One. "Now, sit down and shut your damn mouth." Patton continued, before One could reply.

Caprica slid in smoothly "Yes, One, you are looking foolish now." she said, with Boomer and the others nodding. "And why were we not provided with a copy of your Constitution, General?" she continued, lifting one eyebrow as One sputtered but sat down.

"Was considered irrelevant for you, as you are neither refugee's settling, however temporarily, within our territory nor prospective immigrants." Patton said. "If you would like, miss, I'll have a copy routed to you for your consideration."

"Certainly, General, thank you." Caprica replied, smiling at the cybernetic avatar. "However, I must say that it is rather pleasing to find that our initial assumptions about your social order were in error."

"We have a phrase in English, miss, never assume, it makes an ass out of you and me. It doesn't translate well into Caprican unfortunately." Patton responded, then leaned forward slightly. "Now, shall we begin the actual proceedings, now that the preliminary entertainment is out of the way? I know that historically it was traditional to spend several hours, days or even years arguing about such minutiae as the shape of the table, but as much as that amuses diplomats and politicians, it bores me to tears therefore we shall be skipping that folderol and getting straight to the meat of the matter."

--

**_Base Hospital - Long-term Recovery Ward_**

**_Circe Base, February 1st 3050_**

Kerry was laid out on a surprisingly comfortable looking hospital bed, for all it's institutional blandness the mattress looked surprisingly nice. Starbuck and Sharon were sitting in two chairs, while Racetrack stood outside the door and Gina was off fetching some food for the foursome.

The room was actually quite large, and the hospital staff had setup several more beds for the watchers to use without breaking their instructions from van Hausen to stay with Kerry the entire time. Since all four had been involved in the badly botched prank that had led to this, none of them were at all willing to give him any reason to get even more angry than he already was.

"Frack me sideways." Starbuck muttered, slumped in the chair somewhat. "What the frack was I thinking?" came the four hundredth repetition of the rhetorical question.

"You thought it was just duct tape, we ALL thought it was just duct tape. Kerry thought it was duct tape, we may have fracked up, but we had no clue that we were fracking up." Sharon replied, sounding equally tired. It had been a rough time after a very late night, and both of them were exhausted. "I'm just worried what would have happened if some kids had gotten their hands on it."

"Yeah, but damn it." Starbuck broke off, looking away briefly from where Kerry was still slumbering under the effect of the tranquilizers. The newly cloned skin was wrapped in a tight myomer-laced suit of a bright red color, rather cheerful in some ways, which protected the tissue from harm and, with a network of micro-tubes, kept the skin hydrated and cool while the myomers pulsed steadily in a rhythm designed to promote healing by keeping the nerves operating and the blood flowing smoothly. Moreover, the suit prevented scratching as the cloned skin integrated with the rest of of her flesh, and the myomer fibers were set to prevent Kerry from actually moving much at all.

Gina walked back in, holding a large tray with a number of plates on it, and managing to keep it balanced as she moved to set it down on a side table. "Best I could get out of the cafeteria here." she said, glancing over at the sleeping form of Kerry before sitting down, as Racetrack came into the room herself to join the others.

Starbuck and Sharon shifted their chairs to join in, using the side table and tray to eat from. "That was... disturbing." Gina said softly, glancing again at Kerry. "Sophisticated as can be, but..." she looked at the salad on her plate and picked at it a little before starting to eat.

"Yeah, very, but it worked, I think." Starbuck replied, in an oddly subdued tone.

Gina glanced over at Sharon then at Starbuck, pausing a little. "What, no jabs at my being a Cylon, Starbuck?" she said, a slight bit of teasing in her voice as she tried to get Starbuck out of the oddly quiet mood the normally fiery pilot was in.

Starbuck looked up, a flash of fire in her eyes, then her shoulders slumped a little. "Not now, Gina, not now." she said instead, picking at her own salad but not eating any of it.

Gina was silent for a moment, then shrugged. "It wasn't your fault, Starbuck, I was the one who talked Kerry into it, after all, not you." she said softly.

"It was my fracking brilliant idea, damn it" Starbuck snapped back. "Stop fracking telling me it wasn't my fracking fault, ok?"

"Then stop moping around like an idiot." Gina replied, looking levelly at Starbuck. "And we'll stop trying to jolly you out of being such a fracking sob sister."

--

**_Somewhere..._**

The figure in the darkness was mostly still, occasionally moving slightly every now and then. The silence was almost oppressive, the faint weeping no longer audible from beyond the sealed door. It had been hours, or maybe days, since the slit had opened with food and water. And there were no longer any sounds of guards outside the door either.

There was no longer any gravity in the cell, waste and dirt floated in mid air, fouling the atmosphere even more, and the very air was growing thicker as the ventilation fans were no longer operating either.

It was almost as if the person or persons in these cells had been left here to die, alone and forgotten, in the darkness.

--

**_Command Center - Main Briefing and Conference Room_**

**_Circe Base, February 1st 3050_**

"Well, that went better than I feared, but not as well as I hoped." van Hausen remarked, slumped in his chair after both the Colonial and Cylon delegations had departed.

"True, but it's a good start, and revealing the existence of AI's was, I think, a smart move at this point. Given them both an example of how well AI's and humans can live and work together as partners." Patton replied, leaning back in his own chair. "And you were right, Boomer and Caprica had already figured out the deception you were running with the battle armor."

"Figured they would, Gina and Sharon strike me as pretty observant sorts, who'd notice that sort of thing, and being all copies of the same matrix I'd imagine all the 'six' and 'eight' types would be much the same." van Hausen said, nodding.

Patton chuckled and shook his head. "Remember what I said earlier, don't assume, treat each individual one of the model as just that, an individual, and I think it's closer to the truth. There are far deeper fracture lines within the Cylons than, I think, even they realize."

"I stand rebuked, Oh Master of Interpersonal Relations" van Hausen replied, chuckling slightly in response. "Of course, Monty might disagree with that title."

"Don't make me demonstrate the strength built into this frame on you." Patton growled in response, although something suspiciously like a grin was on his lips. "What's the latest on Kerry anyways?"

"Operation was finished while the talks were ongoing, Dr Aphelli says she should recover completely, thank God." came the response. "She's probably still passed out right now, arranged to get her one of the largest rooms they have so she's got space around her."

"Well, she's going to be bored silly, if I know her." Patton replied, then grinned over at van Hausen. "Fortunately for you, I've planned ahead for that eventuality."

"That scares me..." van Hausen replied, rising to his feet. "Truly scares me... let me guess, you need my help to carry it?"

"Exactly."

--

**_Base Hospital - Long-term Recovery Ward_**

**_Circe Base, February 1st 3050_**

The room was still subdued an hour later, the plates and tray gone and the four slumped in their seats while Kerry slumbered on. There'd not been much speaking for a while now, each of the women sitting silently with their own thoughts for company.

Suddenly the door swished open and van Hausen and Patton swept on, each carrying a pair of large duffel bags in their hands and with heavy looking backpacks on. Behind them came two orderlies, with more bags and carrying a large card table that they setup in a cleared area of the large room before quickly leaving.

"Alright, we figure out who left tape out." van Hausen said as he set the bags down gingerly, grunting a little at their weight. Patton, who drew quite a few odd looks from the four women, set his down without even seeming to notice the mass, despite looking far older than van Hausen. "Thank you all for willing be to keep an eye on Kerry during this, she not do well with hospitals at all, as you could tell." he said, in somewhat heavily accented Caprican.

Starbuck nodded, rising to her feet, followed by the others. "Was my fault she got into this, Sir, least I could do." she said, voice still sounding rather drained.

"Nahhhh, no way you could have known, and the troops pull those kinds of pranks all the time. Some of the engineering troops got criminally stupid and will be punished." van Hausen replied, managing a smile while Patton stepped over towards where Kerry was sleeping and leaned down.

"WAKE UP!" he suddenly yelled into her ear, startling her awake. "Get your ass out of bed, Specialist Sykes-Bannon! Enough lollygagging around" he continued, growling the words in a rather harsh tone, yet his eyes were dancing and van Hausen was just rolling his eyes.

"What the... what the hell are you doing here?" Kerry started, then apparently tried to move and found she couldn't as the myomer held her in place. "What the... get me out of this place! TANK!"

Van Hausen shook his head and opened his mouth, but Patton preempted him. "Relax, girl, with me, Tank, and those four, there's absolutely no chance in hell that anything will happen. Now let me see... ahhhh, setting three it is. Give me a hug, girl, before I smack ya one for giving us all a scare like that."

Kerry indeed was able to rise out of bed and wrapped the elderly looking man in a tight hug, as the myomers relaxed to permit a fairly normal range of movement while still keeping the cloned skin safe from stress. Then the diminutive linguist went and burrowed into van Hausen's arms, while the hulking Brigadier patted her gently on the back, murmuring softly to her.

Patton, meanwhile, put his hands on his hips and swept a gaze over the four Colonials before barking out in perfect Caprican. "And you four will consider what you are seeing here as absolute Top Secret and are not to speak of it anywhere, clear?"

Starbuck nodded, not even looking at the others. "Seeing what, Sir?" she said, some trace of her normal self slowly returning as she watched Kerry and van Hausen. The other three also nodded, but didn't say anything, although Gina and Racetrack exchanged a speaking glance.

"Good, good." Patton said, then stumped over to where the duffel's were set down and started putting them on the bed. "Doctor said three days, Kerry." he continued, as Kerry finally came up for air and turned around, although van Hausen still rested his hands on her shoulders. "And you and I both know that you'll be stir-crazy after an hour awake. So... guess what I brought."

"You didn't..."

"Finished painting them last month, Kerry, what say you and me teach these Colonials a thing or two, eh? Brigadier van Hausen, your mission, whether or not you choose to accept it, is to teach those four the rules while Specialist Sykes-Bannon and myself righteously kick your collective asses in." Patton said, opening the duffel's and pulling out large plastic cases which he started stacking on the table.

"I get first pick." Kerry said, stepping over and separating out two of the boxes, while van Hausen just shook his head and fished out a holoviewer.

"Fine, General, and when we crush you don't whine about beginner's luck." he said, "And I promise I won't consult Erwin over HPG either."

"You would too, you bastard." Patton replied, laughing as he took several of the cases himself. "Fifteen hundred points, there's Imperial Guard, Ultramarines, a couple different sets of Orks, two different Chaos armies, 'nids, Necrons and Tau, both of my Eldar armies are in use by my command crew, and Kerry and I are taking a Guard tank army and standard Marines." he continued, getting a nod from van Hausen as he activated the viewer and started inducting the four others into one of the most popular miniature war games in the Hegemony.

--

"Beginner's luck, I tell you, happens all the damn time with new players." Patton groused, to the amusement of the rest as the epic gaming session finally drew to a close.

"Hey now, I said no whining." van Hausen said, pointing at the cybernetic avatar, who looked innocent.

"Who's whining? And we almost won until Gina's dice went red hot and caught on fire, never seen Orks hit that well." shot back Patton, as the girls all went off to the corner, chatting amongst themselves and leaving the two males to do the cleanup. He then lowered his voice. "Told you, keeping her distracted from being in a hospital will be tough, but it'll help a lot." before raising his voice again. "Tomorrow we'll do a tournament, ladies, standard ladder." he announced as he continued putting miniatures away into the foam packings that protected the splendidly painted little models.

Gina looked up at that. "Sounds like fun, General." she replied, then paused for a second. "I take it we'll be sleeping here tonight?"

"Yes, all but the Brigadier, who will be spending a quiet night all by himself in his quarters, contemplating the repercussions of managing to beat me and Kerry tonight. I, on the other hand, being pure of heart and thus having the strength of ten, shall be guarding the door, to keep amorous officers away from you ladies." Patton said, winking at van Hausen as he did so.

"You don't have a heart, you have a..." Kerry began, grinning back.

Patton mimed taking a hit. "Now now, that's not a way to be talking!" he said, laughing a little as he finished packing up the miniatures. Van Hausen went over and hugged Kerry again, before heading towards the door alongside Patton. "Remember, tomorrow!"

--

Outside the door, Patton stopped and leaned back against the wall, folding his arms. "Don't come back here until 0800, Brigadier, I'll hold down the fort." he said, as the tall officer paused.

"Understood, and... thanks." van Hausen replied, before striding down the corridor. Down the way there was a bit of a disturbance, some of the floor nurses apparently arguing with somebody at the desk.

As van Hausen passed by, he paused. "Mr Vice President, surprised to see you here." he said, in his accented Caprican.

"I heard Kerry is on this floor but they won't let me see her." Zarek replied, two of his followers standing behind him while the activist turned terrorist turned politician turned to face van Hausen. He was holding a package in his hands, that actually smelled rather delicious. "Several of the Sagitarron women got together and baked her some cookies using the supplies available, and I promised to deliver them and find out how she's doing." he continued, smiling disarmingly.

Van Hausen, on the other hand, was made of the same stern stuff as Admiral Adama and was mostly immune to Zarek's charm, but nonetheless smiled in return. "She is doing fine, and thank you for your concern." he replied, then gestured down the hall. "General Patton is playing door sentry, and has ordered me off." he continued, then switched to English.

"Thank you for keeping them here, Nurse Gladding, but please allow them, and any other visitors tonight, to pass through to speak with General Patton." he said pleasantly, smiling at the older woman in the neatly starched white uniform.

"Certainly, Sir." the nurse replied, nodding to the others who'd joined her in keeping the Colonials from just bypassing them and going off on a Kerry hunt on their own. She took out the neatly printed translation phrase sheet and looked for the phrase she needed. "Follow me please." she managed, although the pronunciation was rather mangled and poor.


	19. Diplomacy?

**_Base Hospital - Long-term Recovery Ward_**

**_Circe Base, February 1st 3050_**

"OK, girls, get yer clothes back on, you got a visitor, Kerry" came the slightly muffled voice from outside the hospital recovery room.

None of them had even thought about that yet, luckily, as the door opened almost before Patton finished speaking. Kerry and the others were sitting around the table looking up in surprise as Tom Zarek and the two men trailing him walked in, Patton remaining outside. Tom and the two others were holding large trays covered in cellophane as they paused at the door then continued in, the Vice-President looking slightly chagrined at how Patton handled the 'warning'.

"You didn't have to, Mr Vice-President" Kerry began, rising to her feet a fraction of a second before Starbuck and Racetrack, while Gina and Sharon stayed seated a second longer before rising.

"Sure I did, Kerry" Tom replied, smiling as he walked over, sliding the tray onto the table, followed by the other two. "Or would you want to explain to Lisan exactly why I didn't deliver the cookies she baked just for you?"

"Lisan cooked them?" Kerry said, eyes lighting up in anticipation. "That explains the delicious smell. And no, I agree, I'd not want the best baker in the fleet mad at me, she might cut me off for all time!"

"Lisan and her friends, and no, I am not brave enough to go up against the Sagitarrian Ladies Committee when they tell me to deliver." came the response, although Zarek did still look somewhat worried. "You are alright, right?"

Kerry sighed and nodded. "Well enough, will be a thousand times better once I'm out of here though." she said, then deliberately changed the subject back to the baking. "I told Lisan she needed to open up a bakery and get paid for her cooking, and all she does is blush and say she's not that good... I am going to spread these around and hopefully enough people will show up at her door begging for cookies that she'll see reason!"

"Great, you are going to get us both in trouble if you do that, girl!" he replied, laughing a bit. His compatriots remained silent, although one of them was grinning as well. "And besides.."

"Besides nothing, Lisan is the best baker I've ever met, including my mom who is an artist in the kitchen in her own right. Heck, I might even be able to help bankroll her if she takes the plunge, you tell her that!" Kerry said, one hand on her hip, the other waggling under Zarek's nose as the diminutive linguist shook her finger at him, grinning.

"Alright, I surrender!" he said, catching her wrist lightly. "I'll tell her, Kerry, I promise."

"Do it, or my spies will find out! Right spies?" she said, grinning at the two other men, who laughed at that.

Tom turned his head and looked outraged, although that was spoiled by the grin. "I thought you worked for me?"

"So did we, boss, but I guess we're now working for her too." one of them said, playing along a bit. "Does that mean we get paid, Kerry?"

"I promise to get Tank to keep Piachi away from you, that work?" Kerry replied, eyes dancing. "Or, maybe..." she turned slightly and opened up the cellophane wrapper and drew out a cookie. "Here, have a cookie!"

At that everybody started laughing.

* * *

_Command Center - Main Briefing and Conference Room_

_Circe Base, February 3rd 3050_

"We've been over this already, what, a hundred times?"

"So? We'll go over it again until we get it right!"

"Right by who's perception?"

The wrangling was growing more and more repetitive, as the Colonial and Cylon delegations bickered, argued, yelled and otherwise conducted themselves with all the maturity of a classroom full of kindergarten kids arguing over who was 'it' in a game of tag. Patton hadn't really said much since the talks had started, nor had any other of the Hegemony personnel, allowing the Colonials and Cylons to do verbal war on each other hammer and tongs. As far as the Hegemony was concerned, the crucial bit was out of the way, both sides had signed the Ares Conventions, both sides agreed to not engage in genocide, and both sides had kinda sorta agreed to stop shooting at each other.

At the head of the table, van Hausen leaned over and whispered to Patton "At least they aren't throwing anything at each other."

"True." came the equally quiet response. "Two whole days and a part of a third, and they still are arguing about what to call the damn treaty?"

"Time for an intervention yet?"

"Go for it."

Van Hausen slowly rose to his feet, leaned forward, and rapped the table with his knuckles, drawing the attention of all the disputants.

"We shall be calling it the Circe Peace Protocals. Next subject?" he said, looking severely about. Unfortunately for his hopes of imparting some dignity to the proceedings, what followed was hardly 'dignified'.

"That is not acceptable!" came from one end.

"High handed interference!" came from the other.

"Excellent, you are agreeing on something, wonderful!" van Hausen said, letting it roll off his back. "Next point, please." he continued, sitting back down and crossing his massive arms across his chest.

There was a brief moment of silence, then the two sides went at it once more, although now about other questions.

Patton leaned over and murmured to van Hausen "Good one. Have you seen Admiral Adama or Boomer since yesterday morning?"

"No, I haven't, last I heard they both went up to _Galactica _for some reason."

* * *

_Admiral's Quarters - BattleStar Galactica_

_Circe Base Orbit, February 2nd 3050_

William Adama was sitting behind his desk, focusing his attention on his model ship he was assembling, while Boomer sat across the desk, lost in thought, the still unopened package sitting on her lap.

"I'm still not all that certain why you keep your quarters up here rather than transferring everything down." Boomer finally said, a bit awkwardly breaking the silence.

"I may spend most of my time groundside now, Boomer, but this is my home, up here on the old girl." came the reply, the Admiral pausing to glance over at the Cylon.

"Ahhh" she said, lapsing into silence again for a moment and fidgetting with the package. "That still doesn't answer why you wanted."

He cut her off smoothly. "Wanted you to join me? Why I am trusting you here after you shot me? Why I am allowing a Cylon to walk around freely on my ship?" his voice was dust dry, but not harsh as he carefully positioned another tiny bit to the model.

"It's simple, and learning about the Thirteenth Tribe's AI's made it even easier." he looked up then, eyes narrowing slightly. "We failed you, Boomer, I failed you. You were one of mine, and I let what you were trump who you are." he held up one hand, the one holding the small tweezer's he'd been using, as she started to speak. "And before you ask, no. I don't."

Boomer went silent, mouth closing from what she had been about to say, and the Cylon looked down at the package again. "I... I see. But I'm still a Cylon, Sir, and I..."

He shook his head, leaning back slightly. "Sure you are still a Cylon, but so is Helo's wife, so is Gina. If we weren't so consumed with anger at what the Cylon's as a whole did to us, perhaps we would be able to realize that you are also a person, an individual. You are still Sharon 'Boomer' Valerii, not just simply one more in a long line of Number Eight's. So... open it, Boomer." he turned his attention back to his model then, after gesturing towards the package.

Boomer sat silently for a moment looking down at the package, then swallowed slightly and tore the paper wrapping finally. Her eyes misted over slightly at the familiar gray cloth as she drew out a carefully folded set of Colonial Grays. The insignia and unit patches had already been applied, splashes of color and brightness against the somber gray of the fabric itself.

"You are out of uniform, Lieutenant, you should remember where your quarters are." Adama said, finally looking up once more as a smile crossed his face. "You never resigned your commission properly, after all, nor were you ever convicted by a lawfully empanelled courts-martial." he continued, voice a bit droll.

"I'm sorry, Sir, right away" Boomer said, rising to her feet, a bit unsteadily and her voice wavered and cracked.

Once Boomer was out of his office, Adama picked up a commlink and activated it.

"Helo? Go ahead and let your wife know. I know she's with Kerry, deliver the package anyways. Good. You'll see. Adama out." he said, setting the device back down and going back to his model.

* * *

_Admiral's Quarters - BattleStar Galactica_

_Circe Base Orbit, February 3rd 3050_

"That would work, I think. One of the biggest problems would be avoiding the sort of 'out of sight' issues that possibly led to this mess in the first place. On the other hand." Adama leaned back slightly, steepling his fingers in thought. "I hate to say it, but the average Colonial is probably not going to be at all happy about seeing Cylons free to walk about, not after what happened. So perhaps instead make it so that Cylon's are free to visit, and even emigrate to the Colonies, but that any such has to be coordinated with the government and with the Hegemony, keeping them involved as a third party to keep both sides honest?"

"I think I could convince the others of that, Sir." Boomer replied, sitting across from him with a notebook in hand, wearing the uniform she had long thought she'd never wear again. "Perhaps combine that with a concerted effort on our part to correct the long term damage we caused by our nuclear strikes, and make that a visible symbol of how we are all trying to correct the mistakes of the past?"

"Hrmmm, Centurions are hardened against radiation, so that might actually be both useful and helpful for the purpose. On the other hand, to be fair, I think I can get Roslin to agree that any such teams will be under Cylon control, with Colonial personnel along solely for liaison and assistance, not in command."

"That is one of the 'fears' of the Cylons, Admiral, that we would be enslaved again, so that would help. Next point. We can probably develop an interface between our jump computers and your drives, and perhaps with the Hegemony drives as well, which might permit a much swifter return to the Colonies on the SAR mission we agreed to earlier. Perhaps have Patton or one of the other Hegemony AI's verify that the computers are clear of any malicious software first? We get to be seen helping expedite things, you get to be seen taking reasonable precautions, the Hegemony again gets to play honest broker between us, and thus we all come out ahead?"

"Works. Write that up as well." came Adama's reply, as he took his glasses off briefly to rub the bridge of his nose. "Anything else?"

"Not that I can think of, Sir." Boomer replied. "Only thing we probably really need for it is an official sounding name for the thing, but the others might have finally gotten that taken care of without us."

It's amazing, sometimes, what can happen when two people, of different backgrounds, are able to sit down and work together to solve a common issue rather than waste time throwing insults and accusations about. While the official negotiations were just finally settling on a name for the treaty, Adama and Boomer had written one out, in full.

* * *

_Base Hospital - Long-term Recovery Ward_

_Circe Base, February 2nd 3050_

"That looks wonderful on you, Sharon!" Kerry said, beaming at Sharon as she walked in wearing a set of Colonial Grays, still looking slightly unsteady and surprised. "And puts paid to my devious plan to convince you to join ComCorps with Gina." the linguist continued, eyes sparkling as she grinned at her friends.

"It feels unreal, but according to the note from the Admiral I'm not the first one." Sharon said, crossing to sit down at the table with the others.

"Well, don't leave us in suspense there" Starbuck said, smiling herself as she set down her cards from the triad game that she and Racetrack had been playing with Kerry. "What does that mean?"

"Apparently Boomer is back in uniform, but don't let that spread beyond us, alright?" Sharon said, leaning over to look at Kerry's cards.

"Well, now we're going to have to get you a proper callsign, can't very well call you Not Boomer can we?" Racetrack said, chuckling a little at the kibbitzing.

Starbuck chuckled as well, eyes twinkling a bit. "I know... I got the PERFECT one for her." she proclaimed to the others, causing Gina to roll her eyes.

"Spill it, 'buck" Gina said.

"Well, she's already caused the Admiral plenty of headaches, being a friendly Cylon and all, and not acting in the approved evil wicked Cylon manner, and since some folks call him Zeus, I say we dub you 'Athena'." Starbuck said, causing a general gale of laughter from the others.

"It does work, Athena having been born from Zeus' head and all that." Kerry said, shaking her head at her rather awful hand. "And good thing we're just playing for points and not strip, or I'd be naked right now." she grumped, folding her hand.

"At least you are out of that suit, Kerry." Gina said, chuckling along with the others.

"Yeah, but I'm still stuck here!" Kerry replied, grumbling a bit under her breath.

"What, you don't like us anymore?" Starbuck said, teasing.

"Oh, I like you just fine, Little Miss Smartypants, but I'd like you even better if we were somewhere ELSE."

"Say, have you been talking with the priests behind our backs, Kerry?" Racetrack said, changing the subject slightly. "Since I didn't think you'd know about the whole Athena story and we'd have to explain it to you."

"Oh, I studied the classics, including classical Greek mythology and such, when I was in school." Kerry replied. "I really need to get some of my old profs out here, the Colonial religion seems to be exactly what the ancient Greeks in the classical period believed, in general at least, with dashes of Roman, Egyptian and Persian thrown in."

"What do you mean by that?" Starbuck asked, sounding curious.

"Well, some of your Gods are referred to by names that are of Roman origin, some of your given names, like Isis for example, are Egyptian in origin, and the name of the planet that you believe we all come from is actually possibly from Persian sources." Kerry replied, sitting back slightly. "It's pretty fascinating, actually, that there is such a great correlation between the two."

Starbuck nodded, pausing to lay down her hand, handily beating Racetrack who muttered "I'm also glad this isn't the strip version, I always lose."

"Welllll" Starbuck drawled, grinning wickedly at Athena. "We do have here a brand new minted Colonial officer, and you know what that means?"

Racetrack laughed, while Athena shook her head "No, uh uh, not gonna happen." she said, while the others all broke out laughing.

"Why not? It's tradition! And besides, worried that Helo will get mad?" Starbuck teased as she shuffled the triad deck.

"Fine, but YOU are not playing. I'll play Gina and Racetrack." she said, giving in gracefully, and causing Starbuck to pout.

"You do realize you are being absolutely NO fun at all, right?" Starbuck said, throwing her hands up and handing the deck off to Racetrack to deal.

Gina piped up "Hey, don't I get a say in this?" she said, trying to sound aggrieved, but laughing still too hard as she shifted her chair.

"Hey now, the honor of ComCorps rests on your shoulders, Gina, beat the panties off of them!" Kerry said, grinning as she sat back.

About a half hour later, clothing was littered all over the floor, and finally Gina sat back, grinning impishly, as none of the clothing on the floor was her own.

"And that, ladies, is how Strip Triad is played." she said, deliberately cracking her knuckles and trying not to look like she was gloating at the pasting she'd delivered.

* * *

_Command Center - Main Briefing and Conference Room_

_Circe Base, February 3rd 3050_

The arguing and bickering was still going full bore, as Patton and van Hausen just looked at each other in exasperation at how trite it all was. Hours had now been eaten up on such vitally important things as whether or not the word 'Cylon' would be capitalized in the treaty, the order of listing for the Twelve Colonies in the header, and even what designations to use for the humaniform Cylons. Neither side seemed willing to agree with the other on anything, if President Roslin were to declare that the sky was blue, the entire Cylon delegation would declare it to be Bluish White with tinges of Red. If it were to rain and the Cylons were to declare that rain is wet, the Colonials would vehemently deny it, stating that the water contained in rain may be wet, but the air wasn't. Bicker... Bicker... Bicker...

Suddenly the door opened, causing a bit of a commotion at the entrance and rousing the two thoroughly bored Hegemony officers from their muttered conversation. The Colonials saw the figures first and went silent, followed by the Cylons, as Admiral Adama walked in, trailed by Boomer dressed in the Dress Grays with the cord indicating her serving as his aide de camp.

"Ladies, Gentlemen. I apologize for our absence however we were settling several important matters." Admiral Adama said, moving to sit opposite from Patton and van Hausen, rather than with the Colonial delegation. Boomer set a briefcase on the table and opened it, drawing out several folders which had been printed up on board Galactica, which she started passing around.

"You will find here a preliminary draft for a formal peace treaty between the Twelve Colonies of Kobol and the Cylon race. Moreover, there is a preliminary draft for the establishment of a commission to implement the terms of said treaty and a formal request for the Terran Hegemony in Exile to serve as an impartial arbiter of said terms." Admiral Adama continued, as the folders were passed around. "Lieutenant Valerii and myself spent the last two days working out a mutually equitable solution to these questions, and I expect that you all..." his eyes swept over both the Colonial and Cylon delegations before settling on van Hausen across the table, "Will find suitably acceptable."


	20. The Darkness

**_Space Park_**

**_February 5th 3050_**

"What the frak is that smell?" came from one of the workers as they replaced a filter in the life-support system.

"Probably a backed up disposal tank or bathroom, I guess." came the response from one of the other maintenance workers.

"Smells pretty rank for that... c'mon you frakking piece of... there" said the first as one of the restraining bolts on the filtration unit refused to come out. "Replacing 37B-6, last unit for this section." came the more calm statement as it finally came lose, shaking out some dust as the old filter was set aside for disposal.

"Got that, we're finished early this time for a change, apart from that stink not much to do honestly." the team leader said, wiping his brow with a small rag. "But two hours under schedule, great work people."

"I'm thinking we should track down that smell, Bry, it's got to be near here." one of the workers said as she racked up her tools. "And one thing about smells like this, they never get better on their own."

"We are not frakking toilet scrubbers, but yeah, might just be a disposal tank that needs purging."

"No, smells too bad for that, those tanks are isolated pretty well."

"But what else would it be? According to the deck plat only should be a few maintenance closets down around here, and parts of the hydroponics plant. But none of the telltales on that are showing trouble."

The sounds of tools clattering back into their boxes filled the normally silent corridors as the small maintenance team cleaned up their work area around the life-support node they had come to service.

"Alright, it's coming from this way, I'm guessing, at least it smells worse this way." said the first worker, hefting her toolkit over her shoulder and moving down a somewhat dusty corridor. "Odd, looks like this section hasn't been used for a long time."

"That is odd..." came from another as the corridor continued, lined with small supply rooms before ending at a small open area with burned out lights. "With how cramped everything was, an unused space this big should have been noticed and made use of, unless there was a good reason not to."

"But if there was, wouldn't somebody have let us know before they sent us up here to pull this duty?" came a reply.

The first worker sniffed at one of the hatchs, before wincing. "Yup, definitely coming from in there... wait a second, the hatch is epoxied shut, why the hell would somebody seal off a hatch this deep inside? The closest outer skin is, what, a hundred meters away at least?"

"Huh?" came the response from another as he stepped up beside the first.

"Yeah, I can't open it because of the epoxy, it's forming too tight a seal and it's definitely applied heavily, but look, there..." she pointed at the bead of industrial epoxy that sealed the hatchway shut. "Some of it has fallen away, and I bet that's how we're smelling whatever it is, but why would a supply room be sealed off like that?"

"This one is too, and all the others in this corridor..." said another. "And what the frak?" he continued as he turned on his handlight and played it into the end of the corridor.

On the wall, in big jagged letters, was spray-painted 'Death to Cylons' and 'Sons of Ares Unite!' in blood red letters. Otherwise the small chamber, normally used as a break area for maintenance teams servicing some of the attractions within the Park, was stripped bare to the bulkheads, even the decksole stripped away leaving just bare metal behind.

"We need to get a team up here to strip that epoxy, guys, I have a bad feeling about this."

**_Morgue_**

**_Circe Base, February 6th 3050_**

"Causes of death?"

"Starvation in one case, dehydration in four of the others, blunt force trauma in two, and decapitation in one." came the response from the grim medical examiner as the last of the corpses were wheeled out of the examination room.

"Times?" van Hausen asked, face tight, while Admiral Adama stood next to him, likewise looking angry.

"The decapitation and blunt force trauma cases about three weeks ago, the rest within the last 72 to 96 hours." replied the ME. "No signs of sexual assault on the females, incidentally, but they were beaten severely at some point prior to death, multiple fractures and healed contusions, and one of them was rather badly maimed while still alive."

Van Hausen growled softly, but nodded. "You know what to do, Doctor, there's a team coming to take this case over. Admiral?" he said, turning slightly and arching an eyebrow as he switched to accented Caprican.

"We will be given copies of the reports, correct?" Adama said, voice flat and hard.

"Yes, and the MP's are going over the crime scene and hopefully will have more data soon, and hopefully once the survivors recover enough to talk we can get some leads." van Hausen replied as the two of them walked out of the room.

* * *

**_Colonial Refugee Administrative Building_**

**_Circe Base, February 6th 3050_**

"This is horrid." Roslin said, sounding genuinely distressed, even though two of the victims had been particular gadflies of hers. "I know Gaius and I never really agreed on anything, and Biers was a sanctimonious bitch, but..." she shook her head. "Any leads, William?"

"Nothing but the graffiti scrawled on the wall, 'Sons of Ares' indeed." Adama replied, seated across from the President and Vice-President in the conference room. "Now we know where Baltar and Biers wound up, at least they should both recover but they are in very bad shape." he said, sighing slightly. "The Hegemony has a forensics team coming out, they think they might be able to get some more data out of the crime scene, but for now it looks like we have a group of vigilantes in our midst. It appears that all of the victims were those seen as being 'soft' on the Cylons, or suspected of being Cylons themselves. Van Hausen has offered to move Boomer, Athena and Helo to on-base housing, should be more secure for them than their present quarters. I'm also assigning Marines to guard several other likely targets for this group, but honestly, we have nearly no idea at all where to start looking for these people, for all I know they could be amongst our Marines."

Zarek was frowning severely as he shuffled through the papers in front of him. "So let me get see if I have this straight, a maintenance crew went on board the iSpace Park/i and, in the course of servicing the life-support systems, noticed the smell, investigated, and found this little chamber of horrors? Can we check the maintenance logs to find who pulled maintenance in that section before?"

"We are looking through them now, unfortunately three of the people listed as signing off on the logs are among the victims, unfortunately all dead." came the response, as Admiral Adama rubbed his temples for a moment. "Whoever did this was very well organized, it appears, and ruthless as hell."

* * *

**_ComCorps Compound_**

**_Circe Base, February 6th 3050_**

"Trust me, it's not an imposition at all. Much easier to secure one building than a bunch of them, and they might not expect you all to be here." Kerry said, sitting in the common room of the ComCorps residence with Gina sitting next to her, Boomer, Athena, Helo and several others sitting on couches scattered around the room as well.

"You all have RFID tags, and we'll have guards keeping an eye on you when you are outside of the building, as well as guards on all entrances and roving patrols around the area." van Hausen put in, standing by the doorway with a pair of Hegemony Marines at his side. "You all have been tentatively identified as the most likely next targets for whoever these 'Sons of Ares' are, so we are taking all precautions. Hopefully the crime lab folks will be able to finger them all without any further attacks, but there are no guarantees."

"Understood, Brigadier" Boomer said, glancing over at Tyrol briefly and earning a somewhat catty look in response from Cally, who held her baby closer to her chest for a moment before leaning against her husband. "I'd feel a bit safer if we had a Basestar in range, in which case one of us cylons could be used to bait a trap, I guess, but." she shrugged, trailing off as van Hausen shook his head.

"They'd not necessarily kill you, Boomer" he said, using the callsign that was again fully hers. "They knew enough not to kill Biers outright, at least. We'll just let the forensics team do their jobs, while we do ours by keeping you all safe."

"Plus I'll be hanging out here," commented Patton as he walked through the door and past van Hausen. "Fanatics like that may well feel that targeting a walking talking AI would be a good idea, and the courtyard is large enough for the rods from god to take them out without leveling the building."

Kerry barked out a laugh. "You are not dropping a rod from god on the courtyard! You'd ruin the landscaping, and I am not clambering out of a crater just to satisfy your need for dramatic gestures."

"Besides." van Hausen said, chuckling slightly as well. "That's on the list of things Patton is no longer allowed to do, 'drop rods from god on criminals'."

"Since when?" Patton said, putting his hands on his hips.

"Since right now, it's my base." van Hausen replied placidly enough.

"Fine, fine. But seriously, I will be hanging around, just in case." Patton said, as the others chuckled slightly at the byplay, although neither the cylons nor colonials knew what they were talking about. "But since I'm not allowed rods from god, I brought these instead."

Two small tracked units entered the room, sensor heads fully active and scanning, while an articulated mount carried a standard issue pulse laser rifle. They were barely the size of very large dogs, and painted a menacing matte black with low-visibility markings on the flank that even in the light of the room couldn't really be made out.

"You already have the Mk 90's?" Kerry said, perking up at the sight of the little security drones.

"Managed to snag the first shipment right out from under Monty's nose." Patton replied, smiling broadly at his little coup. "Got two more already outside, going to leave these two for close in patrol. Mark 90 Perimeter Security Drones, I'm tele operating them at the moment and have them tied into my main core. If anybody tries anything, it's not likely that we won't know about it."

Athena frowned slightly. "If those are Perimeter Security Drones shouldn't they, you know, be out on the perimeter?" she asked.

"Ahhh, but why waste them all out there when they can do this?" Patton said, grinning as the two drones suddenly darted behind couches, becoming effectively invisible. "This way, if these Sons of Ares turn out to be cleverer than we thought and manage to penetrate the perimeter, we've got a nice backup right here."

* * *

**_Zenith Jump Point_**

**_Lesnova, Free Worlds League, February 8th 3060_**

There was a rather large amount of traffic around the jump point, about a half dozen JumpShips clustered nearby under station-keeping while their jump sails recharged their drives, and three times that many dropships in the vicinity as well, some thrusting away for the planet, but the majority either docked to those larger JumpShips that had gravdecks, or loafing about in circles under thrust for those carried by the smaller craft that lacked such facilities.

Amongst the newer arrivals, a _Tramp _class JumpShip sat, a rather gaudily painted _Buccaneer _carried on one of its docking collars, while the other two had a battered _Union _and an almost pristine _Leopard _securely docked.

Of course, all was not quite what it seemed. The _Union _and _Leopard _were standard enough, a pair of dropships owned by a small mercenary outfit that was coming into the Inner Sphere from the Periphery for the first time. Completely legitimate, and the mercenaries had no idea about the rest of the equation. For the _Tramp _wasn't. It was hardly a lady, but was, instead, the most modern and effective spy ship platform that the Terran Hegemony had yet built, a _Hobo _class Infiltrator. The exterior hull was almost a perfect match for the real _Tramp_, the unavoidable alterations disguised by false wear and tear and 'imperfect repair' patches, that hid, for example, the fighter launch bays concealed along the flanks. Passive sensors of exquisite sensitivity were concealed in the hull as well, and the solid warship grade ferro-carbide armor was hidden beneath a thin sprayed on layer of far less noble metals.

The attached _Buccaneer _was almost as extensively modified, with significantly more powerful engines than would be expected of the freight hauler, ferro-aluminum armor, and an equally impressive suite of passive sensors hooked into a far more sophisticated computer network than anything normally found in the Inner Sphere. ComStar might have had something comparable, maybe, but not as mobile, not as compact, and certainly not controlled by a pair of fully sentient AI's.

For now the _HNS Serendipity_ played the role of the tramp freighter, the wandering gypsy existence of a privately owned JumpShip and cargo hauler. Nobody suspecting that every transmission, ever emission, every movement, was being recorded. Nobody realizing that the crew, far from being simple spacers, were listening and remembering all that they heard, and that far from scanning the local datanets for merely commodity pricing and news, they were trolling for and recording vast amounts of data from public sources and amalgamating it together to form a coherent picture of the goings on within the Inner Sphere.

The Terran Hegemony in Exile was once more on the move, spying on those they had left behind. A mission eight years in the offing, planned for a four year jaunt about the Inner Sphere, and, if all went as planned, eight years back home. That was the plan, the pattern that had been established and proven in the previous excursions.

The best laid plans of mice and men, oft go agley...

* * *

**_Colonial Refugee Administrative Building_**

**_Circe Base, February 9nth 3050_**

"Neither have yet regained consciousness?"

"No, Mrs President. They are both still comatose and not responding to treatment, although there is brainwave activity. This is, honestly, the kind of situation that even with modern medicine the only thing to do is wait." came the reply from Dr Aphelli.

Roslin nodded, looking down over the reports that were on her desk. The activities of the 'Sons of Ares' had turned into a significant scandal over the past days, as accusations and counter-accusations flew about. Roslin's known hatred of the Cylons was regularly brought up by both sides of the debate, somewhat to her chagrin, but the whirlwind of rumors and innuendos was reaching a fever pitch. Nearly everybody in the Colonial hierarchy was, in at least one set of rumors, tarred as being behind the attacks, some more ludicrously than others. There were even rumors circulating that the Hegemony had done it and was blaming Colonial extremists, although finding that at least two of the victims had died before the Hegemony had even made contact tended to discredit those rumors at least.

"Thank you, Doctor, please comm me the instant either of them are awake." she said, smiling faintly across her desk at the other woman.

"I certainly shall, Ma'am." came the response as Dr. Aphelli rose to her feet and left the office, passing Zarek as he walked in, looking rather curiously as if he were trying to simultaneously fight down a scowl and a laugh.

"Well, Laura, have you heard the latest from Rumor Central?" he said, voice a little tight.

"Does it top the one about the Sons of Ares being a cult of Cylon-worshiping lunatics seeking to discredit the Colonials?" Laura asked, a flash of a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Oh definitely. Apparently you, Admiral Adama, Starbuck, Colonel Tigh, Ellen Tigh and myself concocted this entire fictional tale for our own purposes, there are no bodies, Gaius and Biers are really being hidden away as part of it as our co-conspirators, all with the aim of concealing a torrid swingers club amongst the powerful within the Colonial leadership." came the response, as Zarek collapsed into the seat across from Roslin. "I take it that neither of them are awake yet?"

Laura tried to suppress a snort of laughter at that ridiculous mental image, thawing out slightly. "That is a good one, and no, they aren't." she replied, leaning forward slightly. "Where did you get that one from?"

"I think Starbuck was grinning just a bit too much when she heard it, but a couple of Taurians were the ones spreading that particular version." Zarek replied, before drawing out a few sheets of paper.

"I've verified that none of my people were involved, and have a few folks asking around, I'll let you know if they develop anything." he then said, more seriously.

Laura paused, looking at Zarek levelly for a moment, icing back up again but nodding. "Very well." was all she trusted herself to say, taking the papers and looking at them. "Dr Aphelli will be notifying me as soon as they wake up." she continued, lips pursing slightly as if she'd bitten something a little sour while Zarek just grinned slightly "You are... welcome to accompany me when that happens."


End file.
